Mistake
by Mel966
Summary: Description inside.
1. Chapter 1

_In the Vampire Academy, Rose sees Janine as a neglectant mother who irks her to no end. But what she doesn't realize at first is how similiar they are, and how much her mother has been through. Janine Hathaway deserves a chance to tell her story. And because she is fictional, I will write it for her. This is Janine's story. It will span through her own six week field experience, how she met Rose's father, how they fell in love, and how the relationship abruptly ended. Thank you for reading and please review._

I grinned at my best friend, Russell. "Russ, shh, there are young ears around." I pretended to chatise him.

My other best friend, Nicole, scowled angrily. She was a year younger than Russell and I, and we made sure she knew it. "Shut up, Jan," she told me, smiling slightly despite herself. "And Russell, I wouldn't be laughing. I can still beat your ass in a fight." That shut him up and I snickered.

"I'm pretty nervous," I confessed to the both of them. "We get our Moroi assigned today." I was pretty excited, too--the next six weeks were basically a test. A test that I needed to pass in order to become a guardian. A test that I knew I would ace. I was the top of my class.

"I hope I get Rachel," Russell muttered. Nicole scowled. She had a crush on Russell since our sophomore year, and he currently had an infatuation with a pretty Moroi girl named Rachel Smith. I got to hear all about the drama it from her.

"I'll miss you guys when you graduate," Nicole said wistfully. "I wish I was a year older."

I smiled and ruffled her hair just because I knew how much she hated it. "You'll get your shot, chick-a-dee." She hated it when I called her that.

Sure enough, she glared at me. "Watch yourself, Hathaway," she warned, only half-kidding. I smiled for the millionth time that day.

"All seniors please report to the gym. All seniors to the gym, please." An announcement blared from the speakers in the hallway. I bounded to my feet excitedly and tugged impatiently at Russell's arm.

"Let's go!" I told him, finally hauling him to his feet. "Bye, Nicole!" I added over my shoulder. "Maybe I'll come back and babysit you sometime."

"You better run, Janine Hathaway," she yelled at me. And I ran, pulling Russell along with me.

The gym was almost full by the time I burst through the doors dramatically with Russ in my wake. Several heads turned in my direction, and I preformed a dramatic bow almost to the floor. My combat instructor was nearby, rolling his eyes at my theatrics. I waved at him, laughing when he pointedly ignored my wave. Russell moved ahead of me and I slipped through a throng of my classmates to follow him towards the front. Several people grumbled as I pushed past them and I just ignored their complaints. Eventually, we found two vacant seats in the third row. Just as I sat down, Headmistress Kirova walked onto the stage and stood behind a podium, holding several pieces of paper.

She was a fairly young woman, in her late twenties. Her facial features were sharp, like a hawk's. Not many students really crossed her. Well, Russell and I had crossed her a few times too many for our liking. The last time had been when Russ had snuck some alchohal onto campus for a party. Bad idea. Apparently, word of underage drinking at a party really spreads around campus quickly.

Kirova cleared her throat consipcuously. The chatting in the gym silenced as everyone waited for her to start listing our assignments. "Before I assign you to your partners, I am going over how the entire process works." There were loud groans from students--the past couple days or so we had been preached to by almost every teacher on this subject. "Dhampires, you will be guarding your Moroi for six days a week. You will go attend every class with them. You will go everywhere with them. If they go to a feeding, you go, too. If they go to the bathroom, you stand right next to them and wait. Everything. Dhampires will even sleep in their Moroi's dorm room--not in their bed, of course," she added when several male students cat called. I smirked to myself.

"Attacks will happen at many different times during the day. Even though we are your teachers, we want you to go all out. No holding back."

"We don't have a problem there, Headmistress!" I called out. Most of the kids around me laughed. I swear even she cracked a smile.

"Anyways," she continued as if I hadn't spoke. "Even though Strigoi cannot go outside in the sunlight, attacks can occur indoors during the day so don't assume that the daytime hours are safe. You are never safe in the field experience. Anything can happen, anytime. Guardians, always be aware of your surroundings.

"And now I will announce the pairings." The room went deathly quiet as most students held their breath. "Guardians, I will say your name and then the name of your Moroi partner. Then you are to proceed to the front of the gym and get a packet with important information on the Moroi you are paired with." She looked down at the paper she was holding. "Paul Abbott, you are paired with Jeanne Lopez. Lindsey Acet, you are paired with Rachel Adams." I heard Russell grumble under his breath and I smiled at him sympathetically. Kirova continued down the list, and at the end of each pairing she listed, there was either a groan or an excited yelp. I had started to fool around a bit by yelling with excitement at the end of each pairing. Russ apparently found it pretty funny, as did most of the people around me. I had a feeling it bugged Kirova, though.

"Russell Harald, you are paired with Jonathan Matthews." I whooped loudly and Russ rolled his eyes and snickered as he stood to retrieve the packet. "Janine Hathaway, you are paired with Dillon Thomas." I had opened my mouth to yell again before it really hit me. I was paired with Dillon Thomas. Oh, hell.

_And that is the first chapter. Thank you for reading it and tell me what you think._

_Mel._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reading. This is chapter two. Reviews are magnificent. In case it has escaped your notice, I really don't like long author's notes._

Not Dillon. Anyone but him. Ah, hell, hell, hell!

My jaw had dropped and was wide enough to catch a million flies at once. Not him. I wanted to scream that there had to be a mistake. Surely this was a sick joke. I couldn't be with him for six entire weeks! I would go insane!

I realized that one of the teachers was holding onto the packet about Dillon that I was supposed to get. The teacher looked impatient, and I quickly stood from my seat and practically ran to receive the packet. Maybe if I read it, it would say some other name. Maybe Kirova had read it wrong. Oh, that must have been what happened. The teacher said something to me as I tore the thick folder from his hands, but I didn't hear him. I was completely focused on the paper in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I opened the folder and read the name at the top of the schedule.

**Dillon C. Thomas**

Damn it. I wanted to slam the folder shut and chuck it as far as I could.

"Jan, you okay?" Russell asked. He was clutching his Moroi's class schedule in one hand.

"Didn't you hear?" I moaned. "I got Dillon Thomas."

His eyes widened in understanding. "If he gives you any trouble, let me know. I'll kick his butt," he promised with a straight face, completely serious.

Despite everything, I had to glare at my best friend. "If he gives me any trouble, I'll kick his butt myself." Russ grinned and gave me a one-armed hug.

"That's my girl," he said while laughing. I glowered at the title.

"Actually, I believe that is _my _girl," a voice said from behind me.

I turned around and groaned aloud. Dillon. "I'm not your girl. I'm your guardian. There's a difference. Me being your guardian doesn't equal a free ticket into my pants," I snapped at him.

"Oh, Janine, don't worry, you'll be my girl someday," he said cockily, grinning at me. I wanted so badly to wipe that smile off his face for him.

"Better watch your mouth around me, Thomas," I warned coldly. "In case you've forgotten, I can pack quite a punch." That was a reminder for him--last year when he had said some rude sexual comment to me in the hall, I delivered a quick right hook to his jaw. He had a nice sized bruise there for a week, and I had smiled every time I had seen it. The week of detention I received from Kirova for that incident wouldn't stop me from doing it again.

"I do remember that, actually," he said lightly, touching the spot on his jaw bone where my fist had connected.

"Dillon!" one of his friends called. He glanced at me quickly, and then spun on his heel and walked over to his friend. They pounded fists and Dillon said something to which his friend burst out laughing.

I let out a ragged breath, relaxing from my tensed frame. I hated that boy with a passion. I would be sexually harassed for six weeks straight. What were the teachers thinking? Couldn't they assign a boy to Dillon so his guardian wouldn't be so harassed?

"Oh, my god, you got Dillon?" gasped a girl named Lauren. She was a dhampire, but I considered her more human than dhampire. She was the worst fighter I had ever met, and was also one of Dillon's many groupies. "He is so hot!"

I rolled my eyes at her, even though I agreed with her. Dillon was hot. He was tall, lean but muscular, with dark black hair that was thick and slightly wavy, a strong jaw, straight nose (although it wouldn't stay straight if he bothered me much more), and strikingly green eyes framed by dark lashes. His looks were uncommon for a Moroi. Usually the Moroi had lighter hair, paler skin, and brown eyes. And, of course, because his looks were unique, every female Moroi and a handful of the dhampire girls fawned over him. The attention had a negative effect on his ego. "He's a pain in the butt."

"Are you kidding me? He's so dreamy!" she gushed, giggling slightly.

I rolled my eyes. Dreamy? Oh, please. She continued to babble on and on about how attractive and wonderful he is. I completely tuned her out, and began to read Dillon's class schedule, disgruntled.

**1st Period:History of Moroi**

**2nd Period:Advanced Elemental Magic: Earth**

**3rd Period:Theory of Elemental Magic**

**4th Period:Senior Language Arts**

**Lunch**

**5th Period:Calculus**

**6th Period:Moroi Culture 4**

**7th Period:Animal Behavior and Physiology**

**8th Period:French**

He was an earth user? That was really surprising. I expected him to be a fire user. Huh. Odd. And he was taking French as an elective. Dillon probably thought that speaking the 'language of love' would be a plus with all of his groupies. As a matter of fact, it probably was.

"Hey, Jan, can I see his schedule?" Russell inquired, offering me Jonathan Matthews' schedule. I wordlessly handed him Dillon's and scanned Jonathan's schedule. Jonathan and Dillon had Senior Language Arts, Calculus and Animal Behavio and Physiology together. Well, at least Russell could stand with me in the back of the room during those classes.

"He's an earth user?" exclaimed Russell increduously.

"Apparently so," I muttered. Whatever. No matter what element he 'weilded,' he was still a stuck-up ass. "I have to sleep in the same room as this guy!" I exclaimed suddenly, horrified at my slow realization. "That's suicide!"

"I would use another word to describe it, but it would also start with a 's,'" Dillon said. I whipped around and glared at him heatedly.

"Shut the hell up, Thomas, before I wipe that stupid smirk off your face," I threatened dangerously, clenching and unclenching my fists rapidly, feeling anough anger to kill.

"Sweetheart," he said innocently, even batting his thick eyelashes. "There is no need to get sassy with me." I dug my fingers into my palms. "And you can stop with the 'hard-to-get' act. Darling, I'm already yours." He smiled--no, leered--at me. That was the last straw. I dropped the schedule I had been holding, pulled my fist back, and punched him as hard as I could.

_And there you go. Please review, and thank you for reading._

_Mel._


	3. Chapter 3

_I apologize for not updating sooner. I just was really busy and was having computer trouble. Anyways, here is chapter three. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

"You're supposed to _protect_ your Moroi, not _attack _them!" Kirova practically screamed at me for the millionth time. I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. This lecture was rather repetitive, and it had no effect. I still had no regrets about punching Dillon. He deserved it.

My combat teacher, Mr. Daniel (aka Dan) Morris, slammed his fist down on the desk in front of me. "You're not even listening, Janine! Do you even realize that we are seriously considering dropping you from this assignment? You don't have to graduate, after all." They couldn't drop me from the field experience!

"You can't," I blurted out, and instantly was sorry I had opened my mouth.

Dan's livid face leaned towards me. "Can't we? Do you really want to find out?" I held my ground, staring at him defiantly. It wasn't my fault.

"He was harassing me!" I protested. "Sexually, I might add. What was I supposed to do?"

"Ignore him!" screeched the headmistress. "He's a teenage boy! Of course he has rude sexual comments to say! It's your job as a guardian to ignore them and do your job to protect him! So far, you have failed at both. Why should we give you a second chance? Do you think he wants his jaw broken again?"

"I broke his jaw?" I asked, instead of answering. Damn, I packed a good punch.

Kirova's face turned purple. "What do I have to say to get through to you, Hathaway?!" I resisted the temptation to reply that she should watch out for her blood pressure.

Dan took over. "Do you want to graduate?" he demanded.

"Of course!" I snapped. Duh, I wanted to graduate and become a guardian. If I didn't, I wouldn't have gone to this school. Becoming a guardian was all I wanted out of life.

"Then restrain your temper! Ignore the comments!" he shouted at me. I didn't flinch away, even when a small amount of his saliva landed on my cheek.

"Why did you even assign him to me?" I demanded, voicing the question I had wondered since I first head the pairing. Shouldn't they have assigned him to a boy dhampire so there would be no issues like this?

"You're the top of your class. We wanted to challenge you. What we didn't realize was that the challenge would be too much for you to handle, that you wouldn't be strong enough for it," hissed Kirova. I wanted to throw something at her. I wasn't strong enough? Bullcrap. I'd prove it.

Dan must have noticed my resolve in my face. "We will give you a second chance. Prove that you can handle any obstacles that you face. Prove that you're strong enough to restrain yourself." I glared at him and nodded stiffly.

"Promise us that you will try not to act rashly or be stupid," he ordered.

My glare instensified. "I promise not to act rashly or be stupid." I ground the words out, feeling humiliated and angry.

He relaxed. "Kirova, I think she gets our point," he said to the headmistress, who still looked ready to tear my head off. I'd like to see her try.

"Very well. Miss Hathaway, you are free to go," she said, a snarl sounding in her tone. "Dillon is in the medical ward, and will be there for the next few days. Your assignment has started; you are to join him there and guard him." I tried not to gape at her. I had to hang out with _Dillon_ in a hospital room for a few _days_?

"It is your own fault that he is in there," she warned me. "Not mine. Not his. Yours. Go, _now. _He's in room 34." She glared at me as I stood and walked out of her office, fuming. I slamemd the door behind me and began to stalk off towards the medical center.

Not my fault. Totally not my fault. And I wouldn't do it again, just to prove to them that I was stronger than Dillon, stronger than _them._ As I walked, I lifted my head high, showing no shame. I wasn't embarassed by punching him, not when he completely deserved it. I muttered a curse under my breath. Damn it. No matter how much trouble I had gotten into, it had never agrravated Kirova that much. You'd think I had burned half the school down rather than punching one smart-ass, cocky Moroi who had harassed me.

I pushed open the door to the medical section, and ignored the secretary and guard as I stalked down the hallway, looking for his room. Finally, I reached a door labeled "Room 34." I pushed it open roughly and stepped inside, grumbling.

Dillon was sprawled out on a hospital bed with an IV in his hand and his jaw tied with a sturdy piece of cloth, probably so it would heal straight. He was awake, and his green eyes flickered to me as I entered the room. They darkened to almost black, and I was sure if he could speak, he would be cussing up a storm. I smirked as I took a standing position beside his bed.

"How are you feeling, _sweetheart?" _I sneered at him, not expecting a reply.

He flipped me off with the hand that wasn't connected to the IV.

"Glad to hear it," I replied with a laugh. He didn't acknowledge me after that, and I was perfectly content with ignoring him.

_Chapter three. Thanks for reading. Janine is really mean in this chapter... but she won't stay that way for the entire story. Please review! Thank you!_

_Mel._


	4. Chapter 4

_Here is chapter two! Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading and please, please review!_

"Your jaw should be healed enough to remove the bandage, although you aren't allowed to chew anything, and I mean anything, until I say so. You'll probably be in the hopsital for another few days, and even after I release you, you need to be very careful of that jaw," the doctor told Dillon a few days later while I watched in sadistic amusement. "You are lucky that it is healing so quickly. It was a very minor fracture." I snickered quietly. I could have done worse.

Dillon didn't reply--he couldn't because the bandage was still binding his jaw from moving--but he did send me a fierce glare. I once again found it surprising that he wasn't a fire user. The doctor careful untied the knot in the bandage and unwrapped it from around his head. Once he had removed it, Dillon opened his mouth wide, as though stretching. I have to admit, keeping my mouth closed for several days would really suck. I laughed internally. He still deserved it. For being an ass. For being so cocky. For being a player.

"You may not use your fangs for anything and that includes feeding. A nurse will be bringing you some blood shortly, and all of your meals will be liquids for the next week and a half. If you don't abide by that, you'll find yourself back in here rapidly, Mr. Thomas," the doctor warned, looking at him pointedly. I tried not to groan. I would personally make sure he followed that damn diet. I didn't ever want to set foot in this room again. Most dhampires had probably witnessed or experienced an attack by now. I had experienced nothing. Absolutely nothing. Literally I had sat in this room, leaving only to use the restroom when I was positive nothing was happening. The nurses had been bringing me food when they would add nutrients and liquids to Dillon's IV.

Dillon nodded in acknowledgement and the doctor finaly left the room. I braced myself, knowing he would raise holy hell now that we were alone. I was right.

"What the _hell_, Janine?! Did you have to break my jaw? Do you even fricking realize that I have to be in this God damned room for another week? Jesus f-ing Christ, couldn't you just tell me to go off myself instead of punching me with everything you've got? If I wanted a broken jaw, I would have asked for one!" he practically yelled at me, continuing on to drop a few more f-bombs and make several rude hand gestures. I watched him, slightly amused.

"You asked for it!" I cut in when he paused for breath. I saw him open his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "You completely deserved it, Mr. I'm-so-hot-every-girl-should-kiss-the-ground-at-my-feet! If I could do it again, I would!" My voice had become a snarl, and I smirked at him furiously.

"Shut up. Just shut up before you sound even more stupid. You don't have any idea what I'm like or what you're talking about, so shut your damn mouth, Janine Hathaway," he yelled, glaring at me heatedly. _I _didn't know what I was talking about?

"Really?" I challenged him. "I don't know what you're like?" Bullcrap. I knew just what he was like. He was like every Moroi boy, but all of their negative traits were intensified in him.

"No," he said coldly, all anger gone to be replaced with an icy hostility. His green eyes were dark and his lips were pressed together tightly. "You don't." I clenched my hands in fists at my sides so I wouldn't strangle him or throw something at his head.

"Enlighten me," I hissed. This ought to be interesting.

He regarded me icily. "I don't have to." I supressed a violent urge to break his jaw a second time. Instead, I wisely looked away from him and fixated myself on a ugly vase of wilting red roses by his bedside. They had a card attached and everything. I snickered.

Pointing at the vase, I asked sarcastically, "Which girlfriend are those from?"

He looked at the flowers briefly and glared at me. "I don't have a girlfriend." That surprised me somewhat.

"Or a friend with benefits, whatever you call them."

He rolled his eyes. "I told you that you don't know as much about me as you thought. I don't have any of those either."

I couldn't keep the surprised tone out of my voice. "Really?" Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe he was different. But different doesn't mean he's not an asshole. Anyways, I highly doubted that I had been wrong.

He looked at me far too seriously with his emerald eyes. "Yes, really." I held his gaze for a second and then abruptly glared at the vase again. His face had been far too honest. I hated being wrong. And it seemed that I was wrong about him. Or, at least, he was a pretty damn good actor that deserved an Oscar nomination for his preformance. It could be either, but I was betting on the latter.

I whipped my head towards the door as I heard a loud crash echoing in the hallway. Immediately, instinctively, I took up a fighting stance, waiting and watching the open door. I saw suspicious movement in the doorway, and without hesitation, flung myself forward, tackling whoever it was. By the time we both went tumbling to the floor, I already had one arm against their neck, choking them, and a wooden practice stake at their heart. Dead. I leapt off their body without sparing a glance downward, clutching the stake, at the ready for a second attacker. There was no one around.

"Ahem."

I looked down at the person I had just attacked and felt very abashed. It was Kirova. She obviously wasn't dressed to be a "Strigoi;" she was clothed in loose pants and a button-up floral shirt, instead of the ninja black uniforms the "Strigoi" would wear. Shit. I had just attacked my headmistress. After the incident with Dillon a few days ago, the last thing I needed was to get in more trouble. Shit. She had better not disqualify me from the field experience. Crap, crap, crap.

I took a hasty step away from her. "Uhh... you okay, Kirova?"

She glowered at me. Shit. "It is _Headmistress_ Kirova to you, Hathaway," she growled. I relaxed slightly and offered her my hand, completely ignoring her rebuff. She accepted it and stood slowly, fixing her clothes. Finally she met my gaze and held it steadily. "Good job, Janine."

"What?" I must have misheard her. If she practically blew a fuse because I had punched Dillon, she should have a heart attack when I attacked her.

She smiled. "Good job. You reacted quickly. If I had been a Strigoi, you could have handled it." Her face soured. "Just please take a moment to identify before you kill."

"I'll try in the future," I said snidely. She rolled her eyes.

She disregarded my remark carelessly. "You passed, even though it wasn't a test. Anyways, I had actually come to speak with Mr. Thomas, to check up on his condition." She pushed past me and made her way into the room. I let her, feeling happy that I had actually proved that I was good enough to be a guardian. Sure, I had "killed" my headmistress (not that I was feeling sad about her "death"), but if she had been Strigoi, she would be nothing more than a tattoo on the back of my neck.

I followed her into the room, met Dillon's surprised gaze smugly, and went to stand by his bed, keeping one eye on the door like a true guardian. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him mouth, "That's hot," and wink at me. I rolled my eyes and tried not to throttle him. My earlier thoughts about misunderstanding him were apparently incorrect.

_A little longer than normal, but I'm sure there are no complaints about that. Thanks for reading, and reviews are magical!_

_Mel._


	5. Chapter 5

_Here is chapter five. Long story short, I got a new computer and had to move a bunch of stuff. In addition, I don't like my new computer very much and I sorta miss my old, slow, unreliable one. Sad but true. Anyways, thanks for reading and please review!_

"Oh, my God, Dillon, are you all right?" cooed a slender blonde Moroi girl, leaning over his bedside. She reached out to touch his jaw lightly, and I rolled my eyes. He broke his jaw. Correction: I broke his jaw. It's not like it was a permanent or fatal injury.

It was a Sunday--the free day, when no one had class and dhampires didn't necessarily need to guard their Moroi. Nevertheless, I remained in Dillon's hopsital room. Maybe it was because I had grown fond of the thirty-seven cracks in the ceiling, or the twenty-six loose threads hanging from one of Dillon's blankets (What else could I do in that room other than look at the ceiling or a blanket? What would you do? Seriously. Not an experience I recommend.). Maybe it was because I had grown addicted to the peace and quiet of the atmosphere or the blinding whiteness of the room. Maybe it was because I didn't really want to test Kirova's patience with me. She told me to stay with Dillon, and I was. I had only left to use the restroom once every three hours or so. When I slept, I slept in a chair beside his bedside, facing the door and angled slightly towards the window. Even then, I was only half asleep.

And because it was Sunday every female admirer that Dillon had--meaning about two-thirds of the girls at the upper level of our school--came to visit. Currently, there were about ten crammed into this small room, each ditsier and flirtier than the ones before. I had developed a _lovely_ headache about an hour into the visiting, and it was definitely not improving. I wsa very aggravated with all of them--especially Dillon for attracting them in the first place.

To my surprise and delight, he looked aggravated, too. Maybe his fans bugged him as much as they did other people.

"I'm fine, Lily. Thanks for your concern." He sounded sarcastic, but I don't think the girl even noticed. She had gotten this annoying, stupidly dreamy look on her face when he had uttered her name. I rolled my eyes again and rubbed my temples, wishing the headache would vanish along with the girls. I had to do something or my headache would become a permanent ailment.

"Ladies, ladies," I said loudly, my fingers still resting on my temples. I felt every pair of eyes focus on me. "You're wearing him out. Besides, he'll be out of here soon, and you'll see him then." I prayed that they would leave.

I heard several disappointed sighs, and one girl even had the audacity to mutter, "She just wants him all to herself." I rolled my eyes, but she couldn't see my irritation.

"I am feeling pretty worn out," Dillon added, feigning exhaustion. I snickered. It wasn't believable, but, then again, these girls would lap up anything he told them.

"Oh, poor thing!" I shut my eyes, trying to block it all out. Poor thing my butt.

"I'll come see you soon, Dillon!" Please don't. I mentally cursed them for not leaving.

"Get better soon! I love you!" I love you? Yeah, right.

"No, I love him!" Oh shut up. I was gripping my hair tightly, resisting the urge to pull it out.

"Get out!" I screamed. Instantly, it was silent. I felt dozens of glares on me. Thankfully, though, the mob of girls slowly filtered out of the room, most stopping to bade Dillon goodbye and glare one last time at me. I let out a long, relieved sigh when the room had emptied.

"Thank God they left," muttered Dillon. "Thanks, Janine." His voice was soft.

"I didn't do it for you," I grumbled, rubbing my head, not even meeting his eyes. "This headache is never going to go away. How do you even put up with them? Are you that desperate for female attention?" Since I was probably going to die from this headache, I decided to ask while I still could.

"No," he said, the gentle tone gone so rapidly I thought I had imagined it. "I'm not. I don't ask them to stalk me. And no matter what I say, they won't leave me alone. And I usually don't put up with them. Normally, I avoid them. It's rather hard to do when you're confined to a hospital room and the entire school knows about it." I knew he was glaring at me.

I lifted my head to meet his accusing green gaze. "Well, it's not my fault they visited you. _I_ wasn't the one who told the school where you were."

He glared harder. "It's your fault I'm here."

I sighed. "I'm not arguing now. The next time the doctor comes in, if I have passed out or are incapable of speech, please tell him I need a hearty dose of painkillers." I squeezed my eyes shut again, massaging my forehead.

"Is it that bad?" he asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"Does it look like fun?" I snapped grumpily. Of all times to pester me with retarded questions, he chose the one when I was wriggling on the floor in pain. Well, pretty damn close, anyways. The head thing wasn't that bad... yet.

"Do you want me to call a nurse? I have a button for that, you know," he offered. I couldn't tell if the offer was genuine. It was kind of hard to concentrate.

"Don't mess with me," I snarled quietly.

"Jesus Christ, relax. No need for the hostility. And I wasn't messing with you." I looked up at him. His face was sincere.

I sighed. Why was he being nice? "I'll probably survive. But... thanks, anyways, Th-Dillon." That was the first time in a while that I had called him by his first name.

He smiled--actually smiled at me, and it wasn't a leer. What was with him? Was he delirious? "You're welcome," he whispered, and his voice was deep and husky. I instinctively shivered, momentarily forgetting what was happening. No! Crap, no. It's Dillon, I reminded myself. It's Dillon. You don't--can't--like him.

I tore my gaze from his emerald eyes, going back to rubbing my head, feeling very confused.

_She is starting to warm up to him. :) Anyways, thanks for reading, please review, and I hopefully will have the next chapter out before Saturday or on Saturday. Hopefully._

_Mel._


	6. Chapter 6

_If you have not read Blood Promise, skip the author's note and go straight to the story._

_In Blood Promise, we discover Rose's actual father. I was slightly disappointed when I read that, because I realized my story no longer actually applied. Anyways, I will continue to write this story as long as people conitnue to enjoy it, and let's just say that my story takes place in an "alternate universe" or whatever you want to call it. I won't be changing the story to match up with Blood Promise because A. It would take forever. B. I don't want to. (I like Dillon.) C. I have plans for the story's ending, and changing it would ruin the ending. Literally._

_Thanks for reading._

Fianlly, I was out of that damned room.

I walked several paces behind Dillon, keeping an extra-vigilent eye out as we headed towards the cafeteria for lunch. He had been released that morning from the hospital, and I felt like skipping and singing for joy that there were colors other than white. However, I kept my pace controlled and prevented my voice from serenading my happiness. I had even smiled at Dillon when we had left the room. I was so happy.

"Spaghetti!" I said as we passed through the doors. "My favorite." I could smell the sauce and garlic from across the entire room, and my mouth started watering.

"It's my favorite, too," I heard him say quietly. I was tempted to push past him to get in line first, but I figured that it wouldn't be appropriate "guardian behavior" as Kirova liked to call it.

I loaded my plate with steaming noodles and sauce, grabbing a few pieces of garlic bread as well. I bit into one as I stood in line, not caring if I was supposed to wait until seated. I could see Dillon staring at me and the large amount of food on my plate in surprise. I rolled my eyes at him. I have a fast metabolism. All dhampires do. We eat a lot. Big deal.

"Janine," I heard someone say. I turned around, my mouth full of garlic bread. Two Moroi boys behind me abruptly stopped talking when I turned around and were looking at me uncomfortably. I narrowed my eyes at them. Obviously they had been talking about me.

"You got something to say, say it to my face," I snapped after swallowing my moutful of bread.

"I was wondering if you've been screwing Thomas," one of them said, jerking his thumb towards Dillon as he spoke. "And then my buddy said that he'd screw you... free of charge." The guy wiggled his eyebrows. Eww. I opened my mouth to retort, but Dillon answered before me.

"If she has, it's none of your business," Dillon replied smoothly. "And I'm fairly sure she has no interest in your boyfriend." Both guys went slightly pink.

"Piss off," I told them, and turned around. "Ehh, thanks, Dillon," I added quietly.

He smiled, green eyes gleaming. "All I did was deny a rumor that is unfortunately false." Unfortunately? I snorted.

I followed him to his group of friends and took a seat beside him. It wasn't by choice--dhampires were required to eat with their Moroi. Several tables away, I saw Russell eating with his Moroi and several other Moroi and dhampire pairings. I waved at him when he looked up and he smiled before waving back. I sighed silently. I'd much rather be eating with him. My discomfort increased when several of Dillon's friends and their dhampires sat across from us. One of the Moroi was a girl, and she smiled sweetly at Dillon as she sat down. My mood soured even more and I glared at her heatedly.

"So, Dillon," she cooed from across the table, shooting me a "so there" look. "What is your dhampire's name?" My temper flared. Bitch. If she wanted to know my name, she could have asked me. I managed to hold my tongue, but it took a lot of effort."

To my surprise, Dillon wrapped his arm visibly around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I stiffened. "_My_ dhampire's name is Janine," he told her, voice hard. Her face was hilariously shocked. I laughed out loud, and she glowered at me. I smiled meanly at her as I leaned closer to Dillon, resting my head on his shoulder. She looked ready to throttle me and I snickered.

I picked up my fork and dug into my spaghetti, tuning out the conversation completely. Dillon kept his arm around me, and it felt nice. He wasn't as bad as I thought. I was starting to like him. Plus, I loved the look of outrage his groupies were giving me.

"Jan," a familiar voice said. I turned my head.

"Hey, Russ," I replied, smiling at him. I probably had food stuck in my teeth.

He looked at me questioningly. I looked back, not sure what he was getting at. He looked pointedly at Dillon's arm around my midsection. I slid away, removing myself from his embrace and climbing off my seat. I walked towards Russell and said quietly, "What's the big deal?"

"What happened to you?" he demanded. Huh?

"What do you mean?" He looked incredulous.

"Are you kidding me? The last time I saw you, you were punching the snot out of this guy. Two weeks later, you're all over him. When'd you become a 'Dillon Groupie?'" he asked, his voice harsh. I glared at him slightly.

"I'm not a groupie. I'm not flinging myself at him." Russell raised an eyebrow. "I'm _not_, Russ. Jesus. I don't have any interest in this guy, all right?" That was probably louder than necessary, and it was sort of a lie. Sort of. Well... yeah, it was a flat out lie.

"Sure, Janine, sure," Russell said sarcastically, obviously not believing me.

"Russell, I'm leaving," his Moroi called.

"You'd better go," I told him. "And stay out of my love life, however nonexistant it may be, all right?"

He nodded tightly and walked stiffly away from me. I watched him go and, with a sigh, sat back down beside Dillon. He moved away from me, and I looked up at him, slightly surprised. He wouldn't meet my gaze. I wanted to tear out my hair. Well, damn. What'd I do now?

_And that's it for now. Thanks for reading, and please review! Have a fantastic day everyone._

_Mel._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you all for reading! Here is the next chapter and please enjoy._

I was going insane.

Not literally, of course. I wasn't hearing voices or seeing odd things that no one else could. No, what I meant was that I was going insane from boredum and loneliness. Dillon had completely stopped talking to me for whatever reason. He acted as though I were literally his shadow--you occasionally look at your shadow because they're kind of interesting to look at, but who talks to their shadow?--and refused to acknowledge my existence. In addition to him ignoring me, I had yet to be 'attacker.' That pissed me off. We were already two and a half weeks into the field experience, and I was one of the few dhampires who hadn't been tested. Come on. It was pretty pathetic, but I had been praying for an attack.

Right now I was standing in the back of one of Dillon's classes--I believe this one was Moroi history or something like that. There were several other dhampires standing around me, and they were probably just as bored as I was. Nevertheless, we weren't allowed to speak to each other, and the only voices in the classroom were the teacher's, and a couple Moroi who were complaining about the class.

I shifted my weight from one hip to the other, looking out the window wistfully. It was a nice, sunny day that wasn't overwhelmingly hot--perfect for being outside. A . class was going on outside. It appeared to be a junior class. I watched them with interest, wishing I could be doing that instead of standing here. I sighed, and the Moroi teacher glared at me--dhampires were supposed to stand in the back of classes unnoticed. You know, the old 'be seen but not heard' rule.

I focused my attention on the clock. Only a minute or two left in the class, thank God. I couldn't bear standing here for much longer. If I remembered correctly, there was a fifteen minute break in Dillon's schedule after this class. Wondeful. More time for him to ignore me.

The bell finally rang, and instantly half the class was on their feet, rushing to the door, talking with their dhampire about an array of topics. I sighed. Dillon didn't approach me. He headed straight to the door, and I was once again nothing but his shadow. Damn it, this was getting old very quickly. I wordlessly followed him out of the classroom, wishing he would just turn around and act like I was a living object worthy of conversation.

Well, if he wasn't going to do that, I would take matters into my own hands. "Dillon," I said. He didn't turn around. "Dillon," I repeated louder. He still didn't acknowledge me. Great. Now he was blind _and_ deaf when it concerned me. I cussed under my breath.

"Hey, Janine," Russell said as I passed him and his Moroi. I looked once at Dillon's retreating figure in exasperation, and then stopped walking.

"Russell, since you're a stupid, hard-to-understand boy as well, could you explain why Dillon suddenly is acting like he is blind and deaf?" I said, unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"First of all, boys aren't stupid, Jan. Second, I knew you liked him. What's up with that?" he replied. I rolled my eyes.

"I just like him, that's all. He's not that bad."

"Uh huh, sure he's not, Jan. Anyways, if he's ignoring you, you probably pissed him off." I glared at Russ playfully.

"No shit, Sherlock. I was hoping for a bit more insight," I explained.

He laughed. "That's all I got. Try asking him, since you're so into him." Distaste leaked into his tone at the end. I sighed.

"Okay, I'll try. See ya around, Russ," I called to him over my shoulder as I walked away, heading in the general direction that Dillon had disappeared in. I heard Russell shout a goodbye to me, and then I was jogging to catch up with Dillon.

I found him leaning against a wall, chatting with a lean Moroi girl. My temper flared. I stood several feet away from the pair of them, watching as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. I restrained myself from attacking the girl or yelling at Dillon. Just several days ago he was holding me at lunch. What's up with this chick now?

I strolled over to the pair of them. The girl looked up at me in surprise, but Dillon's eyes remained on her face. Of course. That pissed me off even more. "All right, lovebirds," I snapped. "Break it up. I want my breakfast to remain inside my stomach." That provoked Dillon. Finally, after days, I got a response from him. His green eyes glared at me form under that dark hair that I wanted to touch so badly.

"Umm..." stammered the Moroi girl, glancing between us. "I'll see you around, Dillon." She fled hastily, obviously not wanting to be caught up in our drama. Smart girl.

"What the hell do you want?" snarled Dillon, glaring at me. I blinked in surprise at his hostility.

"What's wrong with you?" I retorted. "Why have you been acting like I don't exist? What'd I do?"

He leaned away from me abruptly. "Why'd you lead me on?" What? Lead him on?

"You're the one who was leading _me_ on," I snapped, gesturing towards the direction the Moroi girl had fled to. "God, just tell me what I did."

"The other day at lunch with your friend," he said stiffly, eyes hard. I saw a flash of hurt flitter across his face before he composed it again. Oh.

"I lied to him," I said bluntly.

He looked surprised. "Really?"

I laughed humorlessly. "Boys really are idiots," I muttered. Louder, I added, "Yeah, really. Now what was with that chick?" I'm pretty sure it was obvious I was jealous. Very, very jealous.

He smiled and stepped closer to me. My heart kind of fluttered. "I was trying to figure out if I could make you jealous. It worked pretty well."

I glared at him. "You stupid, lying--" I didn't get to finish. He stepped even closer, lightly touching my cheek. I shivered, and found myself looking at his mouth. He smiled slightly, and bent his head to kiss me.

I was frozen for the shortest second, and then I was kissing him back enthusiastically. I didn't care that people were staring. I didn't care that there was even a couple teachers present.

After all, he was a _really_ good kisser.

_And that's it for now! Thanks everyone, and please, please review! Have a great day._

_Mel._


	8. Chapter 8

_Finally, I have a good internet connection. My computer has been struggling recently, and I think it might have caught a virus. However, today it seems to be working and I took the oppurtunity to update. Thanks for reading._

I sighed quietly as I walked down the hall, clutching Dillon's hand tightly. Seemingly every girl we passed (and even a few guys) stopped to glare at me enviously. At first, I found it rather hilairous, but it grew especially tiring. I didn't really consider myself popular although almost everyone knew who I was. It wasn't really that I was famous--if anything, I was infamous. But now I had most of the female population wishing me harm.

What fun.

Truthfully, Dillon was worth it. All of it.

"Do you notice the glares?" I asked him as we passed by another girl who gave me a death look.

His green eyes focused on my face. "It'd be hard not to," he told me with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"It's annoying," I complained. "It's not like I'm purposely rubbing it in their faces." Quite the opposite. Since the kiss the day before, I had limited our PDA (public displays of affection) to hugging or holding hands. I liked to think I was being polite, but apparently the other girls didn't agree with me.

His eyes gleamed. "We could rub it in, if you like."

I smiled, but rolled my eyes again, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Behave." I didn't let him know how much I wanted to rub it in their faces.

He shrugged, saying nothing.

"Mr. Thomas, Miss Hathaway, the headmistress would like to see you in her office," a teacher told us, approaching from a classroom. I looked at her in surprise. What had I done now? I immediately thought back in my head. I hadn't broken any rules, as far as I knew. I looked at Dillon, noting his similarly confused expression. Apparently, he hadn't done anything either.

"Umm... okay," I replied, still lost as to the reason.

The teacher nodded, and disappeared back into her classroom. I looked back at Dillon and shrugged. "I have no idea what it's for," I told him. "You haven't done anything, have you?"

He smiled at me angelicly. "Janine, I never break any rules," he said in a sweet, innocent voice. I snickered. It was the kind of face and voice that might have worked when he was about three.

"Nice face," I told him with a smile. "Does that work on teachers?"

He grinned. "Of course. I also have other tactics."

"What would those be?" I asked, leaning closer to him.

He grinned and pulled my mouth to his. I leaned closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him closer to me, and breathing heavily through my nose. His arms snaked around my waist, touching the small of my back, clutching me harder against him, and deepening the kiss. I shivered, pulling away.

"Please tell me you never use that tactic on a teacher," I whispered, breathing heavily.

He laughed. "Only on you."

I grinned at him, kissed him quickly on the lips and grabbed his hand, leading him in the opposite direction, towards Kirova's office. I once again wondered what we had done. Usually, I didn't go to her office, unless it was really bad, like I had broken someone's jaw or been caught drinking on campus.

"Hey, Jan, what'd you do now?" Russell called. I stopped walking.

He knew I was in trouble. You only walked this direction during the day if you were heading to the headmistress's office. And since Russ and I had taken this walk so often, he was sure to recognize where I was headed. "I honestly have no idea," I told him with a shrug.

"Come on, you can tell me," he added coaxingly.

"I was being honest," I replied.

"We'll let you know when we find out," Dillon told him, his voice hard as he grabbed my arm and continued walking. I looked at him in surprise. Where had that hostility come from? I hastily called a goodbye to Russell as I was being hauled away. Once we were around a corner, I whirled to face Dillon.

"What's your problem?" I demanded, yanking my arm out of his grasp. I stood with my arms crossed, glaring at him.

When he didn't answer, I added roughly, "What'd Russell ever do to you? You're always pissy around him." He still didn't reply, and it suddenly dawned on me. I started laughing. "You're jealous, aren't you?" I asked between bouts of laughter.

"No," he retorted, but I could tell he was lying.

I hugged him fiercely, resting my head on his chest. "He's just a friend."

His arms held me against him when I tried to pull away. "I wasn't jealous," he insisted.

"Sure, of course you weren't," I replied snidely, slipping out of his arms. I smiled at him, and said, "Kirova is probably expecting us." For what, I still didn't have the slightest clue.

He laced his fingers through mine and we entered the headmistress's office holding hands. Her secretary looked up, noticed us, and said, "Go right on into her office, Mr. Thomas and Miss Hathway. She's been expecting you." I nodded at her and followed Dillon through a door into the Kirova's office.

The headmistress was seated at her desk, reading off a piece of paper with her glasses low on her nose, when we walked in. She looked up at the sound of our approach. "Ah," she said simply, removing her glasses and placing them on her desk. "Have a seat, both of you." She gestured towards two chairs facing her desk. I slid into one of them, letting go of Dillon's hand. "Well, the three of us have quite a few things to discuss."

What the hell was she talking about?

_You'll find out in the next chapter. Anyways, thanks for reading, please review, and have a wonderful day._

_Mel._


	9. Chapter 9

_And, here it is. I hope everyone enjoys it. But if you don't, oh well. I can't please everyone. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

Kirova leaned back in her chair, eyeing the pair of us. "Well, I'm sure you know why you're in here." Actually, we don't, I wanted to snap at her, but I held my tongue for once. "I have already talked with another Moroi and dhampire pair, and they have consented to what I suggest." The tone of her voice 'suggested' that she wasn't merely suggesting it and that it was more of an order. I looked at her numbly. "So I have made the decision to split the pair of you up in this assignment."

My jaw dropped. "What? Why?" I spluttered, in thorough and complete shock. Where the hell did this come from? Who thought of this idea?

"The point of the assignment isn't for you to hook up with your Moroi partner," she said dryly, looking at Dillon and I pointedly. Holy crap. First of all, what the hell?! Secondly, I had never heard an adult use the term 'hook up' before, and to hear tight-assed Kirova to use it was rather humorous. I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. "I don't feel comfortable with you two being alone so often. Because you two are so young, you don't see the consequences of your actions. But I do, and I fully intend on preventing them." If possible, my jaw dropped even lower.

"What actions?" Dillon demanded.

Kirova paused, looking very awkward. I think that was the first and only time I had seen her struggle for words. "Certain sexual... activities, Mr. Thomas." Whoah--wait a second. This was all about _sex_? Are you frigging kidding me? Why does Kirova even care so much? It's not like her to get protective of the student's... virtues and virginity. Unless...

"Who set you up?" I blurted out. She looked at me in surprise.

"What do you mean? No one 'set me up,'" she said stiffly. I glared at her, suddenly getting an idea of who it was.

"It was my father, wasn't it?" I ground out between my teeth.

"Actually, if you must know, it was your mother," she said calmly. My _mother_? Since when did she care? She was off being a royal Moroi, pretending I didn't exist. "But that's not the point."

I interrupted her. "But we haven't done anything!" It wasn't a lie--I had slept in Dillon's room, as part of the assignment, and absolutely nothing sexual had happened.

"Yet," she said pointedly. I opened my mouth to argue. "Janine, just stay quiet for a couple minutes, will you?" She sounded aggravated. I did, settling for a steely glare at her. "Neither of you realize how easy it is for a girl to get pregnant." I was getting a sex talk from our headmistress. What the hell is wrong with this world? "Your mother has heard about the assignment I gave you, Janine, and she pointedly expressed her intense concern over the situation. It only worsened when she received word about your... relationship with Mr. Thomas."

"Who the hell did she get the info from, anyways?" I snarled, cracking my knuckles. It was impossible for my mother to know about what was happening with the two of us unless a student or teacher told her. Knowing how many female Moroi students hated me, I wouldn't put it past one of them to blab to my mother to get me in trouble. And when I found out who told, they would be in serious trouble. Like instead of breaking their jaw, I'd crack their damn skull.

"She paid a visit yesterday and happened to notice you and Mr. Thomas in the hallway preforming an oustanding display of affection," Kirova told me. Oh, hell, hell, hell. My _mother _saw us kissing? Why didn't I know she was there? Hell, hell, hell. "And watch your language," she added in a warning. I glared at her hardly.

"But Janine and I aren't planning on doing anything like that," Dillon cut in. He had been so quiet I had forgotten he was there. "So why should we be assigned new partners? Are you assigning new partners to every co-ed pairing in this field experience?"

"No, of course not," the headmistress proclaimed stiffly. "That would be a little extreme."

"But aren't the other co-ed teams just as likely to have sex as we are?" Dillon said calmly. I wanted to kiss him for bringing up this excellent arguin point. I settled for smiling broadly at him.

"The other dhampires's parents haven't complained," she retorted. I opened my mouth to snarl a not nice word at her. "Nothing you say will change my mind on this matter. Mr. Thomas, I have given your shcedule to a dhampire named Kristen Fry. Ms. Hathaway, here is the schedule of William Parker, your new Moroi." She handed me a manilla folder.

I ignored it. "Isn't the risk of me getting_ pregnant_--" I hissed the word angrily--"just as high if I'm partnered with this William kid?"

Kirova ignored me and held the folder out impatiently. I completely disregarded it. "I thought that you assigned me to Dillon to 'challenge me,'" I snapped, throwing her earlier words back at her. "Was that complete bullshit, or have you forgotten about that?"

"Language, Miss Hathaway. And no, I have not forgotten. But this is a new challenge, and one much harder. Now you have to guard a Moroi that you don't know as well, that you don't like as well, and especially when your mind will be on Mr. Thomas." Dillon smirked slightly at me and winked. I rolled my eyes at him. Inside, I knew that Kirova was right, that this would be the harder challenge. Instead of leaping in front of Dillon to protect him, I had to leap in front of this William kid to protect _him._

I finally accepted the folder. "Fine," I spat. "I'll guard the damn kid. But that's not going to keep Dillon and I apart." I reached out to hold Dillon's hand tightly as I glared a final time at Kirova.

"Thank you," she sounded relieved, and I wondered how hard my mother had pressured her to do what she did.

I stood up, not waiting to be excused and exited her office, still holding Dillon's hand. I ignored the secretary and lead Dillon by his hand out to the hall. "What a witch," I muttered.

Dillon smiled painfully. "I'll still see you. I'll follow your Moroi around so we can be together."

"William will be so pleased," I said sarcastically. Sadly, I shook my head. "But we can't really be together again during this stupid field experience. I'll have to focus completely on this William guy, not you."

He sighed. "We'd better make the best of the last few minutes, then." I grinned as he kissed me.

Before I could get into the kiss, someone cleared their throat loudly from behind us. I broke away from him, swiveling my head to see who interrupted us. I had a fierce glare on my face that quickly dissolved into shock, and then anger again.

"Mom?"

_You'll find out more about her mother and her parents next chapter. Anyways, thanks for reading, and please, please review. Have a wonderful day._

_Mel._


	10. Chapter 10

_I hope that everyone continues to enjoy this story. I know I've definitely enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading, and please review._

I looked at my mother like she had suddenly grown two heads. "What the hell are you doing here?" I gasped out, unusually shocked. I held Dillon's hand tightly and my other arm was around his back.

"I have every right to visit my daughter," she said calmly. "And my son." Oh, right. My half-brother. Moroi. Fourteen years old. Obnoxious. I avoided him at all costs. "And, Janine, what I've observed here bothered me, so I stepped in." I glared at her. What nerve.

"Since when do you care?" I snapped. "You walk around pretending I'm not your daughter and then suddenly step in to ruin my relationship?" I was practically spitting fire. I'm sure smoke was coming out of my nostrils.

"I don't pretend you aren't my daughter," she said smoothly, annoyingly calm. Her face remained expressionless. "And I do find it worrying that you and that Moroi--" She looked at Dillon with disgust--"are involved in a relationship, and are alone so frequently." For her credit, she actually did look concerned.

I turned to Dillon. "Can you leave us alone for a few minutes?" I asked him quietly. He nodded, looking sheepish. I sighed. I wouldn't want to get involved in another family's drama, either. He bent his head down to kiss me briefly. I could feel my mother's eyes boring into my back. I watched him walk away until I couldn't see him. Spinning on my heel, I whirled to glare again at my mother.

"Janine," she said gently. I fumed at her patronizing tone. "You don't understand why I'm so concerned."

"No, I sure as hell don't," I snarled at her. "Enlighten me." This had better be good.

Her eyes flashed slightly at my sarcastic tone. "Do you know how old I was when I had you?" she asked sudddenly. Caught off guard by the random question, I merely shook my head. "I was nineteen. Barely nineteen. Just out of the Academy. Your father was my guardian. And, like you, I thought that I would never become a mother so young." She laughed slightly. "Well, I did."

I looked at her, my anger evaporating slightly. "So you regret me?" I asked sharply. Surprise surprise. Well, actually, it wasn't much of a shocker. I already guessed as much.

To my surprise, she looked suddenly fierce. "No," she said lowly. "I have _never_ regretted you." That confused me. Never regretted me? Why did she walk around acting like I was her niece instead of daughter? I have to admit, when your own mother pretends like she doesn't know you, it hurts. She must have read the doubt on my face. "I don't act like you aren't my daughter. Forgive me if I don't have pictures of you covering every inch of my wall. Some Moroi consider it improper for a female Moroi to mother a dhampire. So no, I don't flaunt you. But I have never denied you are my daughter."

Well, then. I couldn't think of something to say. My mother continued, "Your father and I decided to send you to the Academy, and ask them to raise you. I... I wasn't ready for a child." Her voice grew quiet, soft. "I was scared, Janine. I was scared of raising a child so young. I wasn't ready. I didn't want to mess up with you. So I did the only thing I could. I gave you away." She looked saddened. I blinked in surprise. So strange that after so many years of resenting my mother, I finally understood her when she meddled in perhaps the most important relationship of my life. But I did. I understood what she meant. I also, grudgingly, understood how much of a sacrifice it must have been to give me away.

"Oh." That was all I could utter. A small, understanding 'oh.'

My mother smiled wryly. "And, thinking back, I would have wanted to kill my mother if she had tried to interfere with my relationship with your father. So, I do understand your anger, Janine. But I think you need to understand my point of view." She paused for a breath and I stared at her mutely. "Janine, you really don't understand how... easy it is for you to get pregnant. I know that at your age, consequences aren't apparent. But everything has a consequence. My mother used to tell me, 'If you want to play adult games, expect adult consequences.' Well, I played adult games, and I wasn't ready for the adult consequences." I think I was flushing slightly. Any sex talk is embarassing, but one from your long-lost mother in the middle of the hallway at your school? Humiliating.

"So will you talk to Kirova and tell her to put Dillon and I back together for the assignment?" I asked hopefully. Maybe we had reached enough of an understanding that she would.

She laughed dryly. "No, of course not. Janine, as much as I love you, I'm not going to let you make the same mistake I did. Not if I can help it." The word mistake was a slap in the face. She caught my eye, and quickly added, "The best mistake of my life, I assure you." I snorted.

"Thanks, Mom," I said sarcastically. I added teasingly, "Nice cover, there." She smiled, and I had to remind myself that I was actually having a civilized discussion with my mom. My mom, who, up until that dya, I had hated. My mom, who, up until that day, I hadn't spoken to in seven years. My mom, who, up until that day, I had never understood.

I sighed. "Dillon isn't that bad," I told her. Maybe, if she understood how much I liked him, she would reconsider.

She smiled at me. "Janine, I know. If he was bad, you wouldn't be dating him," she said with a laugh. "You never were afraid of telling people that you didn't like them. But, this boy could be the saint of ethics, and it wouldn't matter. I know he isn't pressuring you for anything. I know you aren't pressuring him for anything. But that doesn't change the fact that things can happen without people consciously deciding for it to happen."

I nodded sourly. It was worth a try. "Okay. Well... thanks, I guess."

She smiled. "It's nice to clear up some misunderstandings. And it was also nice to see you again, Janine. You've really grown up fast." I groaned. I hated it when adults made comments like that. So annoying. She laughed. "I have things to do today, Janine, but I'll probably see you again soon." And, just like that, my mother was leaving.

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. I wasn't mad at my mother anymore, but it didn't change the fact that I was no longer Dillon's dhampire. What was that kid's name? William Parker or something like that? Whatever. I had like three and a half weeks left in the field experience. Damn it. These three and a half weeks were going to be _long_.

_I didn't give a name to Janine's mother, and I didn't specify on the father or half-brother. I really didn't think they were that critical to the story. I plan on having Janine's mother appear maybe twice more later on. Anyways, thanks for reading, adnd reviews are great. Have a great day._

_Mel._


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm skipping a bit of time between last chapter and this chapter. In this chapter, Janine and Dillon have just graduated. Predictably, she is his guardian. Because he is not royal, she is his only one. Thanks for reading, and please review._

I eyed the clerk angrily. She was oblivious to me; her attention was entirely focused on my charmingly sexy boyfriend/Moroi. The death glare was not working on her. I cleared my throat rather conspicuously. Still no notice. This girl was desperate, deaf _and_ human. Jesus Christ. The instant she had rung up our last item, bagged it, placed it in the kart, and sent one last seductive glance to Dillon, I grabbed his arm and briskly whisked him away form the checkout line. Humans never failed to annoy me.

It was only my third day of being a real guardian--five days ago, I was still at the Academy. I was still flying high, metaphorically speaking. Being a guardian... it was nothing like I had imagined. And I had imagined it many times growing up. My classes at the Academy had always seemed fun, like you make a game out of the guardianship thing. Maybe that was why I had found no interest in them. Because being a real guardian was absolutely no game. I had to keep constant vigilence. _Constant _vigilence. Constant meaning your eyes were either following your Moroi or scanning the perimeter. Or glaring at desperate human girls who were hopelessly flirting with the Moroi you were guarding.

I had been requested to guard a few royal Moroi--and I was deeply humbled by that, although I had politely declined their requests. I didn't want to spend every day following around some person I didn't even know. If I was going to literally stalk someone for years, I was going to stalk someone I loved to be around. I did love to be around Dillon. I loved him. I just hadn't told him the little 'L' word yet.

Currently, it was summer. In fall, Dillon was going to college and I was following him, of course. I hadn't decided if I planned on actually going to my classes or if I would just attend his. It was technically a human college, even though there were more than just a few Moroir and dhampires. The humans were completely unaware of this, however.

Dillon and I were staying in a pretty but small house just outside a city called Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Weirdest town name I have ever heard before in my life. Second only to Walla Walla, Washington. Oshkosh is... well, pretty midwestern. They have this flying convention every year where way too many airplanes land there and the population swells. Thankfully, I don't think we will be here when it happens. We just missed it, thankfully, and it won't happen again for another year. Planes bore me. Anyways, come fall, Dillon is taking classes at the University of Wisconsin--in Milwaukee. I burst out laughing when he told me... only to realize he was serious. I was completely mystified. He was fluent in French, proficent in Math, an astounding writer, and because he was a Moroi, he was better than most humans at human sports. I'm surprised he didn't set his eye on a... well, better university. I'm not criticizing those who go to the University of Wisconsin, but I don't envy you.

Dillon kissed my forehead, drawing me back out of my thoughts. "Baby, what are you thinking about?" I smiled softly, loving the nickname. Loving him.

"The fall," I replied, leaning into him comfortably. I inhaled his scent subtly. He smelled good... and that is very cliche. I made a face. "Why Milwaukee of all places? Why couldn't we go to New York or Los Angeles or even Denver?" I couldn't keep the desperation out of my tone.

He sighed leaning away from me. This wasn't good. "My mother was born here," he said simply, gesturing around us. "She wanted to go to the University in Milwaukee, but my grandfather wouldn't let her. Some sexist thing about women and college, I guess. Anyways, by the time she had gotten old enough to really make her own decisions, I had been born, and then she died." His tone was calm, serene.

I looked at him sadly. "Oh. I'm sorry... I didn't realize." I hugged him again, burying my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around my back, holding me close. We stood for an immeasurable moment before I pulled away with a laugh. "Unless you like your ice cream toasty warm and soupy, we'd better get going and get this in a fridge," I said with a wry grin. He smiled at me warmly, grabbing my hand and a grocery bag.

We piled the groceries in the back of my car--a graduation gift from my mother and long-lost father. It was a nice car, not incredibly expensive, but not rusty and beat up. A Mercedes W126, I believe. 1985. It was a pretty good car. I climbed into the driver's seat, buckling my seatbelt and closing the door. I pulled out of the parking lot, keeping my eyes focused on the road, even though they tended to stray to Dillon every now and again. I sighed, clenching the steering wheel tightly. I really did love him. He was so... perfect. Okay, yes, I know he was far from perfect, as everyone is, but I really, really, really, _really_ liked him.

"Dillon," I whispered quietly. My heart was pounding. Damn it. This was so not me. The fluttering heart, sweaty palms, heavy breathing. I could feel his gorgeous green eyes on me. "I love you," I told him, keeping my eyes on the road. I held my breath, waiting for a response.

He didn't say anything. I looked at him frantically. Did he not feel the same way? Shit, I pushed us too far.

Finally, he spoke. "Pull over," he commanded. I did, and faced him warily. I wasn't prepared.

Before I had even put the car in park, he was kissing me passionately, one of his hands expertly undoing my seatbelt before pulling me closer to him. I kissed him back roughly, my lips parted, my fingers weaving through his thick black hair. Dillon. Dillon. _Dillon._ He pulled away briefly, his lips brushing mine as he spoke. "I love you, too." And then his mouth was devouring mine again, his hands sliding down to slip around my lower back, lightly touching my hips. I shivered and pushed myself closer, opening my mouth, a clear invitation. He groaned, kissing me harder, pulling me tighter.

My fingers brushed up against something cold and wet. Shocked, I opened my eyes, pulling my lips from his. "Shit, the ice cream," I muttered, glancing at the melting tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

"Screw the damn ice cream," Dillon whispered huskily. He pulled my lips back to his, kissing me again. My lips parted and I kissed him back fervently, loving this, the feel of him. The ice cream slipped from my mind. Pretty much everything did.

_Jeez, I kind of realized how un-Janine she seemed. Let me know if you thought so too. Anyways, thanks for reading! And I have been to Oshkosh during the flying convention. I didn't enjoy it that much. And if you happen to wonder why she has a 85 Mercedes, please remember that she grew up in the 70s and 80s. My guesstimate (guess/estimate) is that she was born in the 60s. Have a great day._

_Mel._


	12. Chapter 12

_I skipped a bit of time from the last chapter. You'll find out how much in a few lines. Thanks for reaidng and please review. Here you all go._

I played with Dillon's hair with my fingers as he slept beside me. Sunlight filtered in from the western window; it would be dark soon. We had taken to sleeping during the day as a precaution against Strigoi. My boyfriend would be awake soon. I had been sitting up in bed, unsleeping, for several hours. We weren't in the house anymore--now we were residing in an apartment near the university. Thankfully, the school offered night classes, and we were both enrolled in the same classes, for obvious reasons. If I was his guardian, I needed to be with him all the time. That included classes.

So Dillon had decided to take another French class--he said he adored the language, but I just thought he wanted to show off in front of me--a Statistics class, which I was dreading sitting through, and a few classes on human history, which interested him. He hadn't selected a major, and didn't plan on it for a while. Out of all the classes, the French one would be interesting. I spoke no French, and Dillon was pretty close to being fluent. I should have enrolled in a beginning French class, but as his guardian... I would sit through the higher level French class. I knew I would fail, unless I copied Dillon's homework _and _his tests. Hopefully they were written tests, so I could copy them, rather than spoken tests.

Dillon groaned in his sleep, moving closer to my leg and hip. I smiled softly at him, cupping his cheek with my hand. I really did love him. And wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. His gorgeous green eyes fluttered open and then closed again. I slid back down so I was laying beside him, my palm still holding his smooth, freshly shaven face. His eyes stayed closed, but I knew he was awake.

"Good evening, sunshine," I said with a smirk. He wasn't a morning person. Or rather, an evening person because that was when we were waking up.

He grumbled something incoherent and I laughed, leaning closer so my lips brushed his ear. "Repeat that, please."

"What time is it?" he mumbled slightly louder.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. "Almost six," I told him. "Come on, get up. Class starts in an hour and five minutes."

He kissed my hand. "No thanks, I think I'll stay right here."

I wasn't opposed to the idea. "If you dare to complain tomorrow about skipping the first day..." I warned him ominously, my voice trailing off suggestively.

He grinned impishly. "I won't," he promised and made the 'Cross my heart and hope to die' motion. I smiled at him warmly as he kissed my wrist again. When he started to pull me closer, undoubtedly for a kiss, I pushed him away.

"Definitely not. Not with morning--I mean evening--breath. Go brush your teeth," I told him with a laugh.

He rolled his eyes at me as he clambered out of the bed, heading towards the brathroom, his hair in a tumbled mess. My eyes tracked his progress as well as ogled him from behind. He slept in a pair of boxers and a dark red tee shirt. It was very, very sexy on him. He finally reached the bathroom door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Despite all my half-hearted complaints about the college he chose, I actually was looking forward to going. It would be my first real experience with humans--I was intrigued to find out how much they were like dhampires. I also wasn't going to skip that night--no matter how much I wanted to lay around and be lazy with Dillon all night.

The bathroom door opened, and, in a world record time, Dillon was back in bed, under the covers, pulling me against his muscular chest. I kissed his tanned cheeks, his forehead, his smooth chin, and anywhere but his lips. "I do kind of want to go to the classes," I whispered against the skin of his neck, feeling him shudder as the my lips brushed up against his shirt collar. "Sort of."

"Mmm," he mumbled. "If you really want to." He emphasized 'really' as he pulled my head towards him, kissing my lips fiercely.

My reply died in my throat as I kissed him back, one of my hands sliding down his chest, feeling the expanse of his abs. My other hand was fisted in his black, silky hair. He was cupping my cheek, his fingers splayed back into my reddish brown hair, and the other hand had slid down to my lower back, pushing me impossibly close to his body. Impulsively, I manuevered one of my legs so it was wrapped around his hip. He groaned and kissed me harder, more passionately. I could already feel things slipping out of hand, and I remembered my mother's warnings about pregnancy.

But right then, I didn't give a shit.

I pressed myself closer, my fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He groaned againnst my mouth as I pulled his shirt over his head, pulling my swollen lips from his to do so. Tossing the shirt onto the floor, I ran my fingertips lightly across his medsection. The muscles tightened and flexed under my hand and he kissed me again, this time gently. I could feel his hand grabbing the bottom of my shirt, and he paused.

"You sure?" he murmured huskily, his lips moving against mine, his green eyes dark.

I nodded mutely, suddenly tensed and nervous.

He sensed my anxiety. "Relax," he whispered, his minty, toothpaste-tainted breath spilling across my face. "I love you."

I did relax, curling myself around him. "I love you, too," I managed to say hoarsely. And he was kissing me again hungrily. My shirt joined his on the floor.

And the rest is history.

_And there you go. Sorry if that was too detailed for you. I tried not to make it so, and I think I did a pretty good job. Anyways, thanks for reading and please review. Have a great day._

_Mel._


	13. Chapter 13

_Ahh, man, I have suddenly been getting a lot of homework. It's only the fifth day of school and I've already been getting an hour to two hour homework loads... but that load is only from two classes. Oh, boy. My updating will probably slow down noticeably. Sorry. And here is lucky chapter thirteen. Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you like it._

"Bonjour classe. Lundi matin joli, n'est-ce pas? Maintenant, passez s'il vous plaît vos essais au milieu de votre rang et j'arriverai dans une minute pour les recueillir. Souvenez-vous, l'essai invente une sixième de la qualité de ce semestre. J'espère que vous tous avez fait tout le possible," the French teacher said quickly one morning. I stared blankly at her, not understanding a single word she said.

Smirking, Dillon leaned across the table to whisper in my ear, "She said to pass the essays to the middle and reminded us that it is worth a sixth of our grade, Janine."

I glared at him slightly as I handed my essay to the person seated on my other side. Miraculously, I had survived seven weeks into the French class--mostly thanks to Dillon, who subtly let me copy off his tests and helped me tremendously with my homework and essays. I never spoke aloud in class if I could help it--the teacher attributed this fact to me being shy, rather than me not speaking French at all. Out of her entire speech, that apparently was about the essays, I had sadly only understood one word: bonjour.

Dillon purpously brushed his arm against mine as he passed his paper down. My stomach lurched, and not in a good way. I clutched my abdomen with one hand, grimacing. "What's wrong?" Dillon asked me quietly, placing his hand tenderly over mine. His other arm slinked around my lower back. The teacher was entirely oblivious to this display of affection. She continued rambling on in French.

I made another face. "My stomach hurts. Probably just PMS." And it would be about time--I hadn't had my period in a while.

Dillon, like all guys, dropped the subject as soon as I mentioned PMS. I tried to smile convincingly at him, to assure him that it wasn't too bad, but I was interrupted by a nauseating feeling. I knew it wasn't PMS, then. The cramps associated with that weren't like feeling you had to puke. Maybe I had eaten something bad, or maybe it was the stomach flu. I closed my eyes shut and breathed in and out evenly, trying to erase the feeling like I was going to bolt to the nearest restroom.

"Janine?" Dillon sound worried. I knew that if I opened my eyes, it would only be worse. It was if the room was spinning around me, making the I-have-to-puke feeling so much worse.

I quickly leapt to my feet, my hand covering my mouth, and my eyes bulging. I couldn't tell the teacher or Dillon what was going on--if I opened my mouth, I would undoubtedly throw up everything in my stpmach. Quickly, I fled from the room, grateful that the bathrooms were only a door down. I flung open the bathroom door, not even checking to see if it was the girl's bathroom or the boy's, and immediately located a toilet. The instant my knees hit the floor in front of the toilet, my stomach emptied.

I heard the door open behind me. Please don't let it be Dillon. Jeez, I definitely did not want him to see me covered in barf. Not that he would laugh or be unsympathetic, but that I would feel so much more embarassed if it was him. Behind me, I heard the person turn on the sink water and ripi a paper towel from the dispenser. Footsteps alerted me that whoever it was, was coming towards me. I clenched my eyes close, feeling ashamed and utterly miserable.

"Here," said a quiet voice. I opened my eyes and a hand appeared in my line of vision, offering me a wet paper towel. "You look like you need it." From the hand, with nails painted red, and the voice, which was high and soprano, I knew it wasn't Dillon. Duh.

I accepted the wet paper towel, and wiped the puke off my chin and lips. "Thanks," I said quietly to the girl.

"My name is Sarah," she told me. "Madame Chappelle told me to follow you." Madame Chappelle was what the French teacher wanted us to call her, rather than Mrs. Chappelle. "She also wanted me to ask you if you felt well enough to continue on with class."

I shook my head, not to refuse, but to clear my thoughts. Did I feel well enough to continue? Well... sort of. The nauseating feeling had gotten much better, but I could sort of tell I wasn't completely over this bug. I tossed the paper towel into the toilet and flushed the toilet as I stood up, turning to face Sarah.

She was pretty--light blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin, thin and around my height. Actually, she could pass for a Moroi, if she didn't look so utterly human. "I don't know," I said honestly. "I have no idea why I just like barfed. I don't think I have the stomach flu, but I could have eaten something, I guess."

She laughed. "Or you could be pregnant," she added jokingly, like it was ludicrous.

It was a slap in the face.

Because I _could _be pregnant. Dillon and I had sex before then, more than once, actually, and I hadn't had my period in over seven weeks...

Seven weeks previously was when I lost my virginity. _Shit_. I was barely nineteen--could I actually be _pregnant? _Well yes, I could. But there was some other logical explanation for the missed period, the puking, and the mood swings I had sort of had recently, right? I realized my jaw was hanging wide open and I shut it with a snap. Forcefully, I made myself laugh, although I wanted to scream. "Yeah, right. Well, I don't think I should go back to class. Thanks, though, Sarah." Without waiting for a response, I fled from the room.

I couldn't be pregnant. No, no, no, shit, no. I wasn't ready for a baby. I didn't want a baby. Dillon probably didn't want a baby. But there was no way in hell that I was getting rid of it... I couldn't do that. But Dillon... what would he say? Fear surged through me. What if he didn't want it at all? What if he suddenly lost interest in me? What if this baby tears us apart? I vaguely realized I was crying as I ran down the hall, pausing to fling open the doors to the parking lot. We should have used protection. Where was my _brain_? And how am I supposed to raise this baby? Am I going to resent it if something happens between Dillon and I because of it? What child deserves to be resented throughout its life?

I ripped open my car door, jamming the keys in the ignition, and raced out of the parking lot to the drug store.

To buy a pregnancy test.

Oh, shit.

_And there you go. Thank you very much for reading. I really appreciate reviews, guys! I'm one chapter behind on this story, though. I have this other story, one for Twilight, that I'm working on at the same time, and I had it set that this story was always three chapters shorter than the Twilight one when I updated it. But then I skipped an update for this story. Whoops, now its four chapters behind. Haha. Have a great day._

_Mel._


	14. Chapter 14

_It has been a while since I updated. I apologize for that—I was kind of being lazy. But anyways, here is chapter fourteen. I hope you enjoy it, thank you for reading, and please review._

Positive.

The damn thing read _positive._

I threw the small test across the bathroom. It struck the opposite wall and fell to the floor with a clatter. I mimicked it; leaning back against the wall with my head resting in my hands and sliding down to the floor so I was curled into a fetal ball. This couldn't be happening to me. The thing had to be wrong.

I groaned and placed my head between my knees. What should I tell Dillon? He hadn't gotten home yet and it would most likely be a few hours before he did. That gave me some time to think this through. To my disgruntlement, a few tears slipped down my cheeks. I wiped them away furiously, embarrassed to be crying, even though I was completely alone in the apartment. God, right now I need a good, female shoulder to cry on. But my only girl friend was hundreds of miles away in her senior year at the Vampire Academy. She was not an option.

My mother.

I smacked my forehead with my hand. Damn. How would she react to the news? Would she be angry? Sad? Disappointed? Would she disown me and refuse to acknowledge the kid? I sort of doubted it. Was this what she had felt like when she discovered she was pregnant with me? I was slightly older—nineteen rather than eighteen—but a few months hardly mattered when I considered that I would be under twenty when the baby was born.

Jesus Christ.

I wouldn't even be twenty.

My heart started pounding harder. How the hell was I supposed to be a mother when I was barely an adult myself? Jeez… I didn't want to be the careless, horrible mother. _And neither did my mother._ But I didn't want to give my baby away to the Academy to raise—I knew from experience how it felt to know that your mother didn't want you. Even though my mother had wanted me, and I wanted this baby, from the child's point of view, it really did feel like abandonment.

I slowly stood up, my arms shaking as I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the master bedroom. Beside the bed was a phone and I seized with trembling hands, dialing the number I had memorized but never used.

My mother answered on the third ring.

"Hello?" Her voice was cool, calm and collected—exactly what I was not.

"It's Janine," I managed to say and I winced at the sound of my own voice. I sounded like I was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"What's wrong?" my mother demanded instantly, sounding worried.

The worry comforted me, strangely. "Mom…" Well, there was no need to beat around the bush. "I'm pregnant," I ground out, finding it very difficult to utter the words. Once I had spoken them, I held my breath, waiting for her response.

The other end of the line was silent for several seconds.

"Mom?" I repeated, sounding hysterical.

"You're pregnant," she said slowly. I nodded, sobbing slightly, and then realized she couldn't exactly hear my head move.

"Yes-s." My voice shook and I was feeling so not like myself.

"Have you told him?" she asked serenely; her voice was still at the normal volume level and pitch. She was taking this much better than I had expected.

"No… I just took the test," I told her quietly while wiping my wet cheeks with one hand. "Why aren't you pissed?" I asked with a sobbing laugh.

I heard her sigh. "Well, being pissed won't change much. And remember, I've been through what you're going through. I know what it's like, and it feels shitty enough without someone yelling at you." I smiled slightly when she cussed—it was something I never could imagine her doing.

"Thanks," I replied quietly. "But how do I tell him? What do I do? What should I say?" My voice got higher and louder as I spoke. I had to take a deep breath before continuing, "Mom, I need your help." I had rarely asked for someone's help before and it was hard for me to frame the words.

"Be honest with him, honey. Tell him upfront. Be blunt like you were with me. Either he wants the baby and you, or he wants neither." Her voice was sharp, and I wondered what my father had chosen. Judging by the fact I had never seen the pair of them in the same room, I can guess he chose the second option. "Unless you don't want the baby," she added in a lighter tone.

"I do," I responded quickly and reflexively. I do? I thought to myself. Surprisingly, I did. I wanted that baby with everything in me. But more importantly, I wanted Dillon to want the baby.

"Well, then you need to make sure he wants it, too. And, Janine," she hesitantly added, "if he doesn't want the baby, you might have to choose between them." Her voice was no longer composed; it shook slightly.

"Is that what happened with my father?" I asked quietly, not sure if she was going to answer.

After a moment of pause, she replied, "Yes," and fell silent once more. I knew what she didn't say in words—that she had chosen me over my father. She had chosen not to get an abortion, and chose to keep me rather than being with my father. And then, when I was born, she had given me to the safest place she could—the Academy—because she knew she wasn't ready to be a mother.

I couldn't think of something to say that properly expressed what I was thinking. "Thank you," I said quietly. It was the least I could do.

"It was nothing, Janine. After nineteen years of missed parenting, it's nice to start," she said dryly. "Anyways, I have to go. Call me again if you need me, okay?"

I said okay and she hung up. I slowly put the phone back on the receiver, feeling much better than I had when I had called her. From behind me, I heard the sound of the front door to the apartment open. My heart leapt out of my chest and I froze. Dillon was home. Damn, what was he going to say? Was he going to force me to choose? How could I choose between the man I loved and the life I carried within me?

"Janine? Are you here?" he called from another part of the house.

"I'm in the bedroom," I called back, feeling nervous. My palms were sweating and I wiped them on my jeans absentmindedly.

Within a second, he was in the doorway of the bedroom, appraising me. I knew he would realize something was off—I was crouched on the bed by the phone, my face was still wet from the tears and my eyes were bloodshot from crying. The next moment, he was sitting beside me, pulling me into his arms and rocking me gently back and forth. I started to cry again, thinking of how I might have to give this up if he didn't want a baby.

"Janine, honey, what's wrong?" he whispered softly in my ear. I could tell he was worried from the tone of his voice and I didn't blame him. If I had found him crying on the side of the bed, I would be seriously concerned, too.

"Dillon, I love you," I said quietly, wanting him to know that before I spilled the news that could make or break our relationship.

"I love you, too," he replied anxiously, kissing the top of my head. I closed my eyes, branding the memory into my head forever. "What's wrong?" he repeated more urgently.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm pregnant," I finally croaked, my eyes squeezed shut as I awaited his response.

_Aren't I mean for leaving you guys like this? I'm sorry… but a cliffhanger is a good way to end a chapter. This was also a longer chapter than normal—yay! Thanks for reading, and please review! Have a great day._

_Mel._


	15. Chapter 15

_And… drum roll please… here is the next chapter. Sorry about the cliffhanger, but hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks for reading and please review._

He stopped rocking me, and his hands froze on my back. I stopped breathing and I squeezed my eyes shut, terrified. "Janine…" he said slowly, leaning away from me and pulling my face to be at his level. I kept my eyes closed, scared of what he would say. "Look at me."

I slowly opened my eyes to see his darkened green eyes looking at me seriously.

He softly stroked my cheek, brushing my hair off my forehead. "I don't know what to say," he whispered softly. I winced visibly. His eyes widened slightly. "Not in that way, Janine. I'm not angry or mad or disappointed. I think that we're both a little young, but I love you and I'm more than willing to love the baby as well." On of his hands slid down to reside over my stomach.

"Really?" I whispered breathlessly, suddenly ecstatic. I looked at him, my face alive with hope.

"Of course," he said firmly, brushing his lips across my forehead. Rapidly, a grin spread across my face.

I put my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back so he was laying on his backside on the bed and falling on top of him, cupping his face with one hand and placing my other hand on his chest. "Do you know how much I was freaking out over that?" I asked him, running my fingers through his hair. He looked at me quizzically.

"Janine, freaking out over something? Wow, I guess pregnancy does lead to extreme mood swings," he retorted cheekily. I playfully swatted at his chest. He laughed, grabbing me around my waist and pulling me down so I was laying on top of him, my cheek resting on his chest. "You're incredible," he told me. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I know," I told him, purposely making my voice sound smug and stuck-up. I grinned against his chest. "I was so worried that I called my mother to talk to her," I confessed.

"Really?" I nodded against his shirt. "You really were nervous about this, weren't you?" Once again I nodded. "Why?" he asked, sounding somewhat confused. "I thought it was pretty clear that I love you. Why were you worrying?" He was placing kisses along the top of my head.

I took a deep breath to steady myself before I replied, "Because I didn't know what you would say. My mom… warned me that you might not want the baby. I guess I was expecting that, because we're so young that I didn't expect you to want to be a father. And, I wasn't sure that you were that dedicated… well, because you're a…" I let my voice trail off, not sure of how he would respond to what I was hinting at.

"A Moroi?" he finished. I nodded sheepishly. "I love you, Janine," he said, and I knew that he was forgiving me for believing in the stupid stereotypes.

His hands pulled me closer, and his mouth found mine, kissing me fervently. I was slightly surprised, but I instantly was kissing him back, parting my lips and breathing heavily through my nose. His was wrapped around my waist tightly, and his opposite was fisted in a handful of my hair. Groaning, he rolled us over so I was being pressed into the bed by his body weight. I was reaching for the bottom of his shirt, and I was pulling it over his head and kissing him and—

The phone rang sharply, interrupting both of us.

I forced myself away from him, my lips swollen already and my hand pushing at his chest, pushing him off of me. "Ignore it," he said huskily, kissing the side of my neck roughly, hungrily. I bit back a groan and leaned away from his mouth to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" My voice was breathless and slightly rough. Jeez, I hoped it wasn't my mom. That would be a little awkward, especially if she realized what she had interrupted.

"Jesus, Janine, were you running upstairs to the phone?" my friend Russell demanded jokingly.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. Dillon was still kissing up and down my neck, efficiently distracting me. "No, smart one. What do you need?"

"Do I need a reason to talk to my best friend?" he retorted. I was about to make a snappy reply when he continued hurriedly, "Yes, yes, I have a reason, though. You know the Moroi that I'm guarding?" It was obviously a rhetorical question and I didn't respond. "Well, his cousin was killed by Strigoi, and now he's looking for another guardian, you know, more protection?"

"Get to the point, Russ," I warned him, rolling my eyes again.

"Do you want to take the job? It'd be great, working with you again, Jan," he said hopefully.

Dillon pulled me back so I was leaned against him, and he softly kissed the nape of my neck, nibbling slightly. I squirmed and when I spoke again, my voice was husky and low. "Ahh, Russell, I can't. I'm still guarding Dillon, remember?" I pulled the phone away from my ear and hissed, "Stop it, Dillon," and then quickly put the phone back to my ear.

"I know, I just thought that maybe you'd like to move to the royal court, you know. It's amazing here. You'd like it."

"Russell, I'm not really interested." Dillon was laughing behind me, his breath spilling across my ear. I shivered slightly. "And I'm pregnant." Oh shit. That completely slipped out. My eyes widened. Great. I waited for Russell to explode.

"You're _pregnant?_" he yelled into the phone. I pulled it away from my ear, rolling my eyes.

"Hang up," suggested Dillon, playfully kissing the spot right below my ear.

"Russell, I'll talk to you some other time, okay? Bye," I said quickly, and I slammed the phone down before he could reply. I turned around to face Dillon and by the time I was halfway around, his mouth was back on mine.

_And there you go. Thanks for reading and please review! Have a great day!_

_Mel._


	16. Chapter 16

_This chapter will probably be light and humorous—quite a change from the Janine freaking out chapters that I've been writing previously. Hopefully, you like the change. Thanks for reading. Merci beaucoup. Please review. Here you go!_

"Are you kidding me?" I demanded, raising an eyebrow as I picked up a pair of sexy, lingerie-style pajamas for _pregnant women._ I tossed them out of the kart. "Absolutely _no way in hell_, Dillon."

He grinned impishly. "I knew you'd say that. You should have seen your face when you picked them up." He laughed, touching my cheek affectionately. "Hilarious."

I glowered slightly at him. "We are here to spend my mother's money on new clothes for me, not scanty underwear. Besides, what pregnant woman in her right mind would wear that?" The ugly think was silky, lacy, and covered very little. Oh, and _red._ I hated red. I held up my hand. "No, never mind. Don't answer that, _please._" I pointed subtly over his shoulder.

He turned his head and started laughing. The small, obviously pregnant, blonde woman was picking up the same pajamas I had just discarded and was regarding them interestedly. She looked at Dillon sharply when he started laughing, which made him laugh harder. "Sorry," I told the woman falsely sincerely, trying not to smile. "My husband has some issues." I grabbed Dillon's hand and briskly lead him away from the woman.

"Husband, huh?" Dillon asked once we were out of her earshot. "Did I miss our wedding?"

I rolled my eyes. "It was the best lie I could think of."

He leaned closer to me, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me as close as he could with my ever-growing-bigger stomach. I was barely six months into the pregnancy, but my stomach was already noticeably protruding from my hips. "I love you," Dillon said seriously, pressing his forehead to mine, his green eyes smoldering. "And I don't mind being your husband."

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I swear I was blushing. I ducked my head slightly. "Come on, we need to get some more clothes and maybe some baby supplies." The baby wasn't due for three months, but for whatever reason, I felt the need to get supplies sooner rather than later. It was odd—normally I was a procrastinator.

He grinned. "Back to the maternity section." I rolled my eyes as we made our way back over there, and started rifling through the many styles of shirts and elastic waistband pants. "How about this, honey?" He held up a purple shirt that said 'I'm pregnant—get out of my way.' I read it and laughed, rolling my eyes.

"Fine," I consented grudgingly. He tossed it in the shopping kart with a grin and a soft kiss to my temple. "I don't think you'd be as excited about this if you were the one who had to gain like a hundred million pounds and buy all new clothes."

"You haven't gained _that_ much," he assured me. "You still look amazingly beautiful, Janine. And you're probably right." He placed his hand over my rounded stomach. "The men have it easier."

"You bet your ass they do." Russell and I used to argue about that all the time, when we both were starting puberty. Seeing a pair of pants I liked, I tossed them into the kart and resumed walking. I was tremendously grateful that I wasn't so far into my pregnancy that I couldn't walk right. I definitely wasn't looking forward to that. I eyed a pair of workout pants before throwing them and the matching sports bra into the kart. I needed to keep in shape for guardian duties, even if I was pregnant. Being pregnant didn't mean that I could kick back and get horribly out of shape.

He eyed the most recent addition to the kart with interest. "A pregnant woman exercising. That ought to attract attention."

I rolled my eyes. "If I want to exercise, be damned if you get in my way," I said calmly as I pushed the shopping kart down the aisle. I was starting to get into the lingerie department. Normally, I didn't do that kind of shopping with Dillon around, but I wasn't going to make an entirely separate trip for it. Because of the pregnancy, everything about me had gotten bigger… so just fill in the blanks as to why I was shopping in the 'intimate apparel' section.

"I like this," Dillon commented, holding up a lacy black bra that was a size too small for me. I rolled my eyes as I reached around him to grab one that would actually fit. He grinned like a little kid with a handful of candy and I laughed slightly. Wrapping his arm around my hips, he pulled me closer and kissed my lips lightly before pulling away too quickly for my taste.

"Focus, Janine," he teased, noting my disgruntled gaze. I rolled my eyes for the millionth time and sighed, returning to sorting through the hundreds of bra-and-underwear combos.

Fifteen minutes later, I was satisfied with everything I had chosen and we were headed for the checkout stand. The clerk wordlessly rang all the clothing up, with a few looks at me that suggested his surprise at my age and pregnancy. I glared at him hardly when I handed over my mother's gift to me—a loaded credit card. He swiped the card and offered to push the kart out to my car. Politely, I refused, and left the store abruptly, with Dillon pushing the kart with one hand and holding my waist tightly with the other.

"Have you thought of any names?" I asked him as we loaded the bags into the trunk of my Mercedes. I had been thinking about what I wanted our baby's name to be and I was curious about his opinions.

"Yes. For a boy, Anthony or William," he told me with a soft smile, bending to kiss my nose as he closed the trunk of the car.

"William? Eww," I commented as I slid into the passenger seat of the car—Dillon never would let me drive any more. "I don't want my child to sound old-fashioned and stuck up. I do like Anthony, thought. What do you think of David or Alex?"

"Not Alex, but David sounds good. Anthony David Thomas," he said musingly.

"Hey," I retorted. "Why should his last name be Thomas? Shouldn't it be Hathaway-Thomas?"

"No," he replied, leaning across his seat towards me. "Because I don't intend on raising our baby and not being married to his beautiful mother." He kissed my bottom lip, nipping slightly. I groaned, kissing him back fiercely, not caring that we were in a car in the middle of a parking lot. He pushed the armrest down and pulled me closer to him, so I was leaned across my seat, my torso pressed against his chest. Moaning quietly, he shifted himself so he was hovering over me, in the process hitting the horn on the car, setting it off. I pulled away from him, laughing hard.

"You…" I said, still laughing. "Smooth, Dillon." He was smiling slightly, self-conscious.

"Shh…" he told me with a grin as he kissed me again, lightly. When he pulled away with another grin, he added, "To finish answering your earlier question, I like the name Rosemarie for a girl. Its so pretty and feminine."

I glared at him. "Feminine? She's going to become a guardian someday. How feminine is that? And I'm not naming my daughter after a flower," I warned him.

He grinned. "It was just a suggestion," he told me as he pulled out of the parking lot.

_Makes you wonder what changes her mind. In due time, you will find out. And it won't necessarily be a happy reason. Thanks for reading! Please review, and have a great day._

_Mel._


	17. Chapter 17

_By the way, in this story, obviously, Rose never meets her dad. Never. You'll see why. And I made the ending the way that I thought it would have to end for how Janine acts in the series to make sense. Maybe some of you have wondered what changes her from a happy, in love, teen, to a stoic, abandoning, middle-aged mother. All in good time. Good time means like about five or six more chapters. Unfortunately, this story is drawing to an end. Here is the next chapter. Enjoy._

"Ugh. I look like a whale," I complained as I ran a brush through my mussed, bed-head hair. I turned sideways slightly, scowling at my figure in the mirror.

Dillon laughed, wrapping an arm around me—or at least trying to. His arm didn't fit very well around my stomach. In the past few months, I had gained like twenty pounds, and it definitely showed. Only a few weeks left until the baby was supposed to be born—and we still hadn't agreed on a name if it was a girl. Hopefully, it would be a boy so there would be no more arguments, no matter how light-hearted they were. "You look great, Janine," he protested, kissing my cheek.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right." I put the brush back on the counter and turned in his embrace to face him, although my stomach prevented any really close contact. "We still need to hit a store for more ice cream," I reminded him. Cravings, I guess. During the duration of my pregnancy, I had to have gone through three gallon tubs of mint ice cream per week, to Dillon's bemused amazement. A few months previously, I had gotten a random hunger for peanut butter, and I had eaten some right after having mint ice cream. That had completely grossed him out.

"I'll drive," he said instantly. I had not driven myself anywhere recently—suddenly he was super protective. Although I could totally take care of myself (come on, I'm a dhampire, I could completely beat up Dillon), I let him do it because it amuses me, and I think it's sweet in a sometimes-annoying-over-protective kind of way.

He let go of my shoulders, settling for holding my hand tightly, and lead me out of the house, holding the door open for me like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. I laughed at him, saying, "Yes, thank you, Sir," in a lofty tone, lifting my nose in the air for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at my antics, and proceeded to open my car door for me as well. I slid in without a sarcastic comment, but I snickered quietly to myself. God, I loved that man.

"I love you," I told him lightly as he backed the Mercedes into the street. I grinned with a slightly impish look, feeling elated and carefree. He looked at me affectionately and reached out to touch my cheek before focusing his eyes back on the road. "Do we have any peanut butter?" I asked with a fake innocence.

His face contorted into an expression of disgust. "That's disgusting, Janine," he told me, shaking his head. "Peanut butter and mint… gross." His nose was wrinkled up as if he smelled something foul. "How can you eat that?"

"Easy," I told him, laughing. "It tastes fine."

"Once you have the baby, I swear to God that I'm going to forcefully feed you peanut butter and mint ice cream, and see if you still like it then," he threatened playfully, smiling despite his attempts as solemnity.

"Go ahead," I said teasingly, like we were two high school kids on a first date. He pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and turned off the engine, climbing out of the driver's side. He reached my side before I had finished unbuckling my seatbelt; he reached out a hand to help me out of the car, pulling me to my feet and kissing me lightly on the lips, bending awkwardly to reach around my stomach. Flinging my arms around his neck, I kissed him back enthusiastically.

After pulling away a few seconds later, he grinned and shut my door, saying, "At least mint smells and tastes good. I've heard of some women who get cravings for pickles, or garlic or onion." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "I don't pity their husbands."

I chuckled slightly as we started walking towards the store. "Would you still kiss me if I did eat garlic and onions and pickles with every meal?" I challenged lightly.

He grinned, bending to kiss me again. "Of course," he said with a small laugh. "But I'd discreetly switch out your toothpaste or stock your purse up with strongly scented gum." He winked, kissing the top of my head as we entered the store and I grabbed a small basket.

Instantly, I headed towards the 'Frozen Goods' section, walking down the aisle filled with appetizing frozen goodies, until I reached the section I was looking for: Dreyer's Ice Cream. In my opinion, it was the best. Dillon would argue—he liked Ben & Jerry's the best. Pulling open the freezer door, I grabbed two gallon tubs of mint chocolate chip ice cream and put them in the basket. Noticing Dillon's incredulous look, I added defensively, "So we don't need to make another trip tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow_? I doubt you can eat a gallon of ice cream in one day," he said humorously.

I rolled my eyes, shutting the freezer door. "It was an exaggeration to make a point," I informed him, walking towards the checkout stand with my ice cream.

The clerk, after eyeing my belly bump with a disapproving glance, bagged the ice cream, silent until informing me of the price. I pulled a twenty out of my purse, and, after receiving the change with another judgmental glance, haughtily reached for the bag. Dillon grabbed it before I could, and he held my hand with the opposite hand. Outside of the store, it was barely dark—probably around eight or eight-thirty.

Something was off. I was uneasy, walking towards the car in the dark, deserted parking lot. Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I instantly was facing the direction warily, my feet planted separately, in a fighting stance.

"Janine?" Dillon asked cautiously. "What is it?" His hand stroked my hair, but I couldn't afford to be distracted now.

"I think it's a Strigoi," I whispered in response, right as one of them leapt towards us, materializing out of the darkness, its red eyes flashing with the intent to kill.

_Once again, I feel mean for leaving the chapter like that. But, mean or not, you have to admit that with a cliffhanger, you're more likely to read the next chapter the instant it comes out. Better for me in other words. Thank you so much for reading. I would love it if you all would review, and have a wonderful night._

_Mel._


	18. Chapter 18

_Judging by the reviews, the last cliffhanger absolutely killed you guys. Mission accomplished! But if you were mad at the way the last chapter ended, you guys will be way pissed off after this chapter. Sorry, but I had planned the ending for this story when I started it, and I am not going to change my mind. Thank you all for reading. Please review! Here you go… enjoy._

Dillon yanked me back roughly, letting go of my hand at the perfect instant so that I struck the ground harshly, knocking the wind thoroughly out of me. He moved to stand in front of my protectively, facing the Strigoi, whom had yet to move; it had watched the scene with a cold malevolent amusement. Normally, I would have bounded back to my feet, but with the added weight and exhaustion from the baby, I was not in my best shape.

"You have no hope," the Strigoi said calmly, convincingly. "You might as well stand out of my way, Moroi. I won't hurt your girlfriend." His voice was so alluring… so believable that I almost bought it.

"Dillon," I gasped, breaking the charm. "Don't listen! It's only convulsion." I hoped that the sound of my voice would break the convulsion for him—that maybe he loved me enough to listen. But stuff like that only happens in fairytales. Dillon slowly took a step away from me. "No," I whispered, getting to my knees, fishing in my purse for the one item that could save both of our lives… all three of them if you included my unborn baby. I wrapped my fingers around the end of it, gripping it tightly. "Why?" I asked the Strigoi, hoping to distract it while I stood up or at least got into a position where I could easily get to my feet.

He narrowed his red eyes coldly. "It's nothing personal, Janine. Just your mother. This is revenge… the best I could dish out."

"How do you know my name?" I asked, my heart thumping unsteadily as I maneuvered my legs so they were coiled beneath me, like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring. "And what did my mother do to you?" How did he even know who my mother was?

"She chose you over me," the Strigoi answered, its red eyes flashing with a fury. "She left me. She didn't care about me. So what better way to get her back than to kill the one person she ever loved more than me?" My head was reeling.

"You're my _father_?" I gasped, all my pervious plans foiled. How was this possible? When did my father turn Strigoi? Beside me, Dillon shifted his weight slightly. I hoped that, if the Strigoi was distracted, he might lessen his convulsion enough for Dillon to be free of it. Maybe the plan _was_ working.

The Strigoi—I wouldn't think of him as my father—smile demonically. "Hello, daughter," he snarled, pacing around me in a circle, reminding me of the way a lion would corner its prey. I turned, too, keeping my eye firmly on him at all times. He was moving so slow—it had to be a tactic, because no Strigoi naturally moved at such a human pace.

"Say goodbye to your lover," he sneered and sprang towards me at such a speed I was almost blinded.

I leapt to my feet awkwardly, drawing the silver stake at the same moment. He nimbly dodged my feeble attempt at getting his heart, and I came no where near to hitting him. Grinning a horrible, wicked smile, he lunged for me again, seizing my arm and twisting in an awkward direction. I let out a horrible shriek as I felt my bone break. As soon as he released my arm, I had fallen to the ground in agony, clutching my arm. The stake fell to the ground.

That was a mistake, the first of many that I would make that night.

"Get up," my father snarled venomously. I couldn't move. Lightly, I placed my hand over my stomach, as if comforting my baby, who probably wouldn't live to see daylight. Who surely would die the instant I did. "Get _up._" His voice had become a command, but I ignored him; I had given up, and was awaiting my impending death. I could face a Strigoi and win—but not while I was pregnant, but when the Strigoi had been a guardian before his death and had trained in combat, I had absolutely no hope. "Fine," he snapped, and had my broken arm in his hands again, yanking me to my feet. I screamed shrilly at the pain in my upper arm, wishing for this nightmare to end.

"Let her go," Dillon spoke quietly from the sidelines, his voice holding no resolve. I whipped my head around to stare at him. He was looking confused, like most did when recovering from strong compulsion, but I could tell he was growing more determined every second. Save us, Dillon. I knew tears were streaming down my face.

"Fine," the Strigoi replied tauntingly, abruptly dropping me to the floor. He leered at me once and then lunged for Dillon. I could only watch in horror as he lifted my lover off the ground and savagely ripped open his throat, spilling his blood across the pavement of the parking lot. My scream of dismay mirrored Dillon's scream of agony. Sobs wracked my body as the Strigoi finally had enough and dropped him to the pavement. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest told me that he was still alive—but barely so.

"Your turn, my precious daughter… and grandchild," the Strigoi snarled, approaching me slowly. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, wishing I could do more to protect my child. I didn't protect Dillon—I'd try my damned hardest to protect our baby. "You can't stop me," he taunted and then moved forward in one of his blindingly quick movements. I slammed my lids shut in anticipation for the end.

But he never reached me.

The Strigoi let out a high, keening scream, and I instantly flung my eyes open, blinking back shock at the scene before me.

Tree branches were wrapped around his legs, inching their way up his thighs, restraining him and keeping him immobile. Dillon was specialized in earth; I knew that was his doing, and that gave me the slim hope that he was still alive. The Strigoi was struggling against the wood manacles, releasing animalistic snarls from his throat. I felt around behind me, looking for the discarded stake. My fingers touched it, and I grabbed it as I awkwardly climbed to my feet. I half-fell, half-jumped forward, aiming for the place I had been trained to aim for, feeling intense satisfaction when my stake plunged straight into the Strigoi's dead, unbeating heart.

With a final, horrid shriek, my Strigoi father slumped to the ground, his red eyes glazed over, unseeing. I stood there, panting, my heart thumping unsteadily, in thorough shock. My eyes slid past the body to Dillon, where he lay limply on the pavement, his throat still bleeding. Instantly, I was stumbling over to his body, and I collapsed beside him, anxiously checking for a pulse. I finally found one, but to my horror, it was slow and growing slower yet.

"No," I begged him brokenly. "Don't die on me, Dillon. I love you." I anxiously began pressing on his chest, doing the only thing I could think of: CPR.

"Love… you," I heard him whisper so quietly I wasn't sure it wasn't just the wind.

And then his pulse stopped, his heart falling silent forever.

_Are you guys mad at me? Well, if you are, I'm going to remind you that the story isn't over yet. I've got maybe five more chapters in me. Will you continue to read? Either way, thanks for reading this far. I really appreciate reviews, especially the half-crazed with anxiety or worry or excitement ones. Have a wonderful day. :) Mwahahaha…_

_Mel._


	19. Chapter 19

_Last chapter certainly provoked animated reviews. :) Those are the best kind, when people are so into your story that you can provoke strong emotions. Hahaha. Well, here is the next chapter, and hopefully this might ease your aggravation some. And yes, Dillon is dead. He's not Strigoi, he's not coming back. He's dead._

He's dead…

The life fled from his green eyes, as they glazed over, staring horribly into the abyss of nothingness. Tears streamed down my cheeks, wetting his shirt, and I pressed my fist to my mouth to hold in the crazed sobs that threatened to consume me. How could this have happened? How could I have let the Strigoi kill him? This was all my fault. I should have saved him, I shouldn't have let weakness and stupidity overcome me. It was entirely my fault. My entire body was shaking, tremulous because of the shock, the despair, the horror, the insanity that accompanied a loved one's death. All the tumbling emotions were only amplified by the horrid guilt, the knowledge that his death _was_ in vain, that I could have prevented it, that it was my entire fault he was dead.

I matured well past my age as I crouched there, sobbing into his shirt, crazed, empty, guilt-racked, and utterly alone.

"Shit," an unfamiliar voice hissed from behind me. I didn't look up; I didn't care what happened to me then. Death would be welcomed.

Time passed, and I didn't move from my spot beside him, my fists clenched around handfuls of his shirt, in denial about the entire thing. This had to be a nightmare. I could detect movement behind me, several people were around, but I couldn't see them; they were all mirages, all conjured up by my demented mind. Some of them spoke, some didn't, but my response was the same: distraught, wild silence—how silence can be either of those things was hard to comprehend, but my silence was.

I could feel the baby inside of me moving about, kicking, but even that did nothing to rouse me from the state of intense, burning grief that held me immobile, crouched over _his_ body.

I felt arms wrap around me, firmly, attempting to pull me away from him. Sobbing desperately, I turned, unseeing, to lash out at whomever it was; they immediately released me, and let me wallow beside him without interruption. This was insanity, this was hell, this was impossible—this was everything gone wrong at once: my almost-finished pregnancy, the Strigoi who had trained in combat, the surprise of the attack, and my own failing and idiocy. Why did I drop the stake when the Strigoi broke my arm? I had broken practically every rule in the textbook that night—and look what it had cost me. My mistakes, every single one of them, had turned on me, hitting me at my weakest.

A new pair of arms seized me, some time later; they were stronger, more controlled, and managed to haul me away from his body. I gave in, exhaustedly, wearily, my physically fatigue and emotional breakdown weakening me enough to consent. I felt myself being carried away; the slight breeze brushing past me told me that I was moving. I couldn't tell who it was; I couldn't even tell if I was breathing or if my eyes were open. Eventually, the arms gently set me down, and I didn't rise, didn't move, didn't think.

I awoke in white—white ceiling, white bed, white walls, white everything. Amongst all the unity in color, a face stood out in stark contrast. It took me a second to recognize the face, which I hadn't seen in forever, but that, at one point in time, I would have leapt up in relief to see.

"Janine," Russell exhaled in release. "Thank God." He leaned forward to embrace me warmly, although awkwardly because of my stomach.

"Where am I?" I asked bleakly, hugging him back with my good arm. I was blocking everything out—the memories, the emotions; I was forcing myself to live only in the present.

"The hospital at the royal court in Pennsylvania," he responded. I didn't react to the news—very little could surprise me at that point. "You had a compound fracture in your arm and they want to watch you for a while—they're worried about the stress affecting your… baby negatively." He had to grind out the word 'baby,' but managed a small, apologetic smile at the end.

My child. Our child. Dillon's child… I touched the side of my stomach, thinking of him, unaware of the tears slipping down my cheeks or the lump in the back of my throat. What would he want me to do? Not grieve—he would want me to survive, to survive for the baby as well as for myself. He had loved me, and he had loved our child, even unborn as he/she was. Had it been me in his shoes, I would want him to live, to move on, to be reasonably happy. As much as it hurt, I would try to do the same for him. I would try my damned hardest, even though it felt like it could kill me, even though I felt like killing myself instead. I wouldn't do that to our baby, and to his memory. And there was one living person who would understand that resolve.

"Is my mother here?" I asked, my voice breaking already. He nodded quickly, and I added, "Please get her." Tears were streaming faster down my cheeks as Russell hastily left the room, dashing down the hallway outside my room.

Barely any time at all later, my mother appeared in the door, her face full of pain, both hers and mine, empathy for me, and grief, but whether the grief was old and for her own reasons, or new, and for mine, I wasn't sure. She wordlessly crossed the room, coming sit on the edge of my bed, and leaned down to hug me securely.

I flung my arms—both of them, even the one covered in a cast—around her neck and let everything out. I started bawling harder than I ever had in my life, soaking her shirt in my salty, dripping tears. My mother didn't say anything—she just held me and cried silently herself. We sat there for an immeasurable length of time; my tears would never dry up over him and she would never run out of patience for me.

"It's my fault," I finally spoke, hours later, and my voice was horrid—it sounded scratchy and rough and horrible.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. "He made his own choice," she finally said, in a gave voice. "Do you think he could have just sat there, compulsed or not, and watch your fath—I mean, the Strigoi—kill you and your baby? Honey, he made his own choice." Her words, so soothing, did not ease the intense guilt. No matter what he chose, it shouldn't have lead to his death.

Everything that night was a mistake.

_And that's where the title comes from. Do I plan ahead, or do I plan ahead? Hahaha, but anyways, thanks for reading. You guys are the best! And you can be even better if you review. ;) Have a wonderful evening._


	20. Chapter 20

_Skipping some time to…well, you'll find out a few lines down. Anyways, thanks for reading. Hopefully, you will continue to enjoy the story. :) Drawing near the end… but you all knew that already. Before I continue to repeated myself endlessly, please review, and on to the story. Voila!_

He should be here.

He should be here, and it's my fault he isn't. The words repeated themselves in my head over and over, continually, as another wrenching, painful contraction rattled my frame. Damn it. No one said child birth was going to be like _this_—agonizing and long. I had been in labor for _hours_, and it didn't help that I was utterly alone.

"You're doing great, honey," my mom said, putting her hand on my cheek in a futile gesture of comfort. I glared, not at her, but at the opposite wall.

My mother, Russell, the doctor and a nurse were all in the room, but their presence wasn't the one I wanted, wasn't who I pictured with me when I gave birth to my child. Dillon, I'm trying. I'm sorry you're dead; it's my fault, they were my mistakes.

"Shut up," I ground out between my teeth, fury overriding the guilt.

Russell grinned. "That sounds like my Janine," he said, laughing. I knew he was right—I was more like myself during labor than I had been in the few weeks previously, when I had become a zombie—walking and eating, but barely speaking or interacting with people. But I wasn't so much like my former self that I would bark out a retort to the possessive pronoun in front of my name.

"You really are doing well," the nurse told me soothingly. I moved my steely stare from the wall to her face, watching her squirm uncomfortably. "You're at seven centimeters—you probably have an hour left until the actual birth."

"An hour?" I groaned. "Are you _kidding?_" I couldn't last an hour—I would die if the contractions continued for another whole _hour._ I had started this process five damn hours previously—how long does childbirth last, anyways?

"I was in labor for ten hours before you were born," my mom said dryly. "You're responding much better than I was—I was cussing at the nurse and telling them to get the damn kid out of me, already." She chuckled at herself, wrapped in her own childbirth memories. I had to admit, her response wasn't that ridiculous—if this labor lasted ten hours, I would be yelling that, too. My mother leaned closer to me, placing one of her hands on my shoulder lightly as she bent to whisper in my ear. "How are you holding up?" The tone of her voice told me that she wasn't referring to the labor.

I sighed, my face collapsing into its former expression: horror, mingling with self-revulsion and grief.

"I need him," I whispered brokenly, stubbornly holding in tears, looking away from my mother's empathetic face. It was empathy and not sympathy, which softened her expression; when I was born, she had been alone, too. My father had left long before I was born—and in some ways, it would be worse to have lost Dillon earlier rather than just a few weeks before my due date. But what broke my spirit entirely, was that he would never see out child, that we made, that we would have parented together and watched him/her grow and have grandchildren. The tears spilled over, from the combined forces of emotional pain and physical exhaustion.

My mother wordlessly touched my cheek, her eyes full of the same exhauster grief, the same mangled confusion that I was feeling—her feelings were revived from memories, whilst mine were raging, bottled up, inside of me. After that encounter, I didn't speak for a long period of time, excepting the occasional complaint or grumbled question to the nurse. Russell was whispering hoarse encouragement, but I ignored him—no man should tell a woman she was doing well in childbirth, pregnancy, or any other specifically female incidents unless they had personally experienced it.

"Nine and a half," the nurse announced later, when sweat was dripping off my forehead, and I was past using civilized language. To me, she added, "When I say push, I need you to push with everything you have, okay?" I glowered at the tone she used—it was one that I would use to talk to a small, ignorant child, rather than an exasperated patient in the middle of the most painful experience of her entire life.

"You're almost there," stated Russell, as if he had any idea of what was going on. "You can do this, Janine." No, I can't. I can't do this. I wanted to cry, to yell that this had to be a mistake. I couldn't be a mother! I had no idea what to do… how to do this by myself. I need you, Dillon.

"Janine," my mother said, her calm tone the opposite of Russell's anxious, excited one. She looked me directly in the eye, her face fierce, and said lowly, "He wouldn't want you to give up."

That struck a chord inside me, reverberating around within. I gulped and braced myself for the final few seconds of it, reserving my strength, not for replying, or arguing, but for the final, critical push.

"Push, Janine," the nurse said excitedly, tapping on my knees eagerly. My breath whooshed out in a gasp and I clenched my eyes shut, grumbled a few profanities, and pushed as hard as I could.

I stopped paying attention to the world around me, and just focused on myself. My muscles were screaming in protest at the extended use—no matter how well I was in shape, it wouldn't have prepared me for _that_. Distantly, the nurse was shouting something, but I couldn't hear and didn't try to listen. Dillon, I'm sorry. You should be here. I love you, I thought bleakly, and gave one last, strong push. A baby's gurgling cry cut through the air, and directly into my thoughts, yanking me back out of my mind.

"A girl," the nurse told me, as she handed my daughter, wrapped in a blanket, to me.

Wordlessly, I took my daughter into my arms, crying, and looked down into her face. It was like somehow had hit me with a freight train. She was a beautiful child; rounded pink cheeks, a small tuft of dark, thick hair on her head that couldn't have been from my genes, and was looking at me intelligently with _my_ brown eyes. Her face was mostly Dillon's features, but feminized some, and maybe that was why her appearance hit me so hard: the obvious relation to her father.

"She's beautiful," Russell said quietly, peering over my shoulder at my baby.

"What's her name?" my mother asked me quietly, reaching forward to touch my daughter's cheek.

I looked at my daughter silently for a moment, and replied, "Rose. Rosemarie."

_And there you go. Thanks for reading and please review! Reviews really keep me updating frequently and keep me on task and motivated! Have a wonderful day._

_Mel._


	21. Chapter 21

_And here is chapter twenty-one. Wow. It was like a week ago that I was posting chapter one, right? Certainly seems so. Enough of the repetitive sappy stuff. On with the story. Thanks for reading, and please, please review. I can never get enough of those reviews. :)_

_Enjoy._

"I can't raise her," I said hysterically as I watched my mother rock little Rose in her arms, feeding her a bottle. "Mom, I can't. Not when I'm twenty. Not when I just lost _him_ and she looks so much like _him._ How the hell am I supposed to do that?" My voice rose higher and shriller, and I had to pause a take a deep breath to regain control over myself. My mother handed her to me; I took her into my arms, awkwardly rocking her, feeling so out-of-place with a baby in my hands. I continued in a much softer, more controlled tone, "And I can't do this. I need to get back out there, to guard, to do what I'm supposed to. I'm a fighter, not a mother. I feel like… I feel like I owe it to myself. Last time I failed as a guardian and Dillon is _dead_. I need…" I trailed off. My mother was a Moroi; she didn't understand the passion I had for being a guardian, the duty I felt to protect her kind. _They come before you_. I _was_ putting Moroi before myself, before my daughter, for the good of our society.

"Honey, you can't rush through this decision," my mother told me gently, touching my shoulder and baby Rose's face with her other hand. "You can and will live to regret it if you make one too hastily." She hesitated, looking me straight in the face. "I regret giving you to the Academy sometimes. But I thought my decision over thoroughly. No matter how much I wish now that I had kept you, if I could do it again, I would still give you away because it was better for you. I simply wasn't ready or capable to raise a child at eighteen. But you're older than I was, and you need to decide if you are ready, capable and willing."

I looked down into her face. Rose was making this cute gurgling noise and had grabbed one of my fingers in her tiny grasp, giggling happily. It was impossible not to smile at that, but my grin was short-lived. "Mom, should I give her to the Academy to raise?" I knew I wasn't ready, capable, and maybe I wasn't as willing as I should be to raise her. If Dillon... had survived, it would have been a different story. I wiped the back of my hand under my eyes, furiously embarrassed at the moisture that was gathering there.

"I can't decide for you, Janine," she replied softly, convinced of her properness in the response.

Once again, I looked down at my daughter's face, contemplating.

It was like I could see two futures ahead of me. One was the future Rose could have if I gave her up, if I let the Academy raise her. The other was the future the both of us would have if I kept her. Such different paths… such different outcomes.

My sight clouded over; I was watching myself, an older version of myself, anyways, pushing a small dark-haired girl on a swing set. The pair of us were laughing and smiling and looked so happy. The dark-haired girl turned towards me, and I knew instinctively, that she was my daughter. Fog set in, and when it was lifted, I was older still, and my daughter had to be around ten or eleven. We were at some sort of mall… and very rapidly, a figure leapt out of the shadows, seizing my daughter by the throat and killing her the same way Dillon had died, while I stood by, gaping in horror, incapable of saving her.

And then I thought about my own experience growing up in the Academy. I never had a true 'mother' figure, and maybe that was why I had turned out irresponsible and sarcastic and the way I was two years previously. If I let the Academy raise Rose, I knew it would probably be the same for her as it was for me. But I could live with her being sarcastic and irresponsible, hell, I could even live with her hating me, as long as she was safe, protected by the wards surrounding the school. Suddenly, I knew what my choice would be, and it came to me as if the decision were straightforward, simplistic and uncomplicated.

"I'll let the Academy raise her," I said quietly, feeling a hurt in my chest as I uttered the words. In a way, she was all I had left of Dillon. "I'll call Kirova tonight and arrange it all." My gaze was solemn, saddened, and was fixated on the happy face of my daughter. Oh, Rose, I hope that, with time, you will understand.

"Don't rush through with the decision," my mother said, but I disagreed. I needed to make a decision soon or I wouldn't ever make it. As she noted the stubborn set of my jaw, she added consolingly, "All right, Janine. Do what you think is right for Rose." She softly stroked Rose's cheek. "Be safe, my granddaughter." She bent to kiss her on the forehead. "Janine, I need to go. If you need me, just call." She kissed my forehead as well—she was taller than me by an inch or so—and with one backward glance, left the suite. She had arranged for me to get that room at the royal court—being royal herself, she could pull quite a few strings for her daughter, even though the Moroi hardly considered me royal, or even her daughter.

I set Rose down in her crib and popped a pacifier into her mouth; her lids started to droop slowly as she drifted off into a gentle sleep. I looked at her for a long time, unmoving, just watching her sleep, as if cherishing my last few moments with her… and, through her, Dillon. Finally, I let out a sigh, and picked up the phone, dialing the number I had written down on a pad of paper on my nightstand.

"Headmistress Kirova speaking," my ex-headmistress answered, sounding very professional and stuck-up, just like I recalled her being.

"Hey, Kirova, it's Janine," I told her, trying to brighten my voice from a monotone to at least a normal speaking voice. "I need a favor."

The other end was silent for a long time. "What is this about, Miss Hathaway?" she finally responded, sounding resigned.

"It's about my daughter, Rosemarie Hathaway." I didn't pause long enough for her to express her _colorful_ opinions on me being a twenty year old mother. I took a deep, shaking breath before continuing. "I… need you to raise her. Well, not you specifically. I want the Academy to raise her like they did me. Please, headmistress." That was the only time in my life that I had called her by her title instead of her last name.

Another long pause; she eventually answered, "You'll need to bring her here, and fill out a dozen or so forms to legally sign her over. You sure you want to do this, Janine?" She sounded concerned, and, right then, she reminded me of my mom.

I replied that I did; after that, the conversation wrapped up rather quickly. Sighing, I hung up the phone, only to pick it back up again and dial a different number. "Russ?" I asked once he picked up, my tone lifeless and horrible. "Is that cousin of your Moroi still looking for another guardian?"

_And there you go. Thanks for reading. Please review. Have a great day, everyone._

_Mel._


	22. Chapter 22

_Sadness… this is the last chapter. Only an epilogue left. :( But this will be my first completed multi-chapter story! :) Yay for me! I finished it! Thanks to everyone for their continued support; I wouldn't have finished if it weren't for all of you. :) Enjoy this chapter._

"Why?" my three-year old daughter asked, grabbing my hands desperately, her face forming into a pout that tore at my heart.

"Mommy has to go," I told her sadly. "You will be looked after, but I won't be visiting for a very long time, sweetheart." Three years ago, I had given Rose to the Academy and they had started raising her, although I visited very frequently for those years. But… time had passed, and I had finally accepted an assignment guarding a Moroi. I needed to get back out into the world of guardianship, where I belonged. But I would miss my daughter with every fiber of my being; leaving her felt like losing Dillon all over again.

"_Why?_" she demanded, starting to cry. I hugged her tiny body to my chest, wanting to cry right along with her.

"I need to go," I told her truthfully. "Mommy has things she needs to do, Rose." I was aware of Kirova eyeing me with pity from the sidelines of our goodbye, but she didn't say anything, and, for that, I was grateful.

"No!" she protested, as if denying it would change it. I smiled slightly at her stubbornness, a trait that she definitely inherited from me. "No!"

"Yes," I told her, running a hand through her hair, closing my eyes briefly. When they opened, I could almost picture Dillon there, watching all of this with a sad expression on his face. It saddened me as well, but I had made up my mind. I needed to get back to my career. I knew that leaving her would permanently tarnish her view of me, but it needed to be done. She needed to be independent; she needed to be strong. She needed to never make the mistakes I did, the mistakes that destroyed my life. "I love you, my little Rose." I'll love you until I die, no matter what you do. I promise you that. Rose, Dillon, I'm sorry, I thought sadly. But I need to do this.

I slowly stood up, meeting Kirova's gaze. "Don't say anything to her about her father," I said sullenly, my eyes dead. I don't know what made me say it. Maybe it was some final method of revenge against myself for what happened to Dillon. Maybe it was some selfish urge, to keep Dillon's memories all to myself. Maybe I was trying to protect her form the horrors of the world that I knew all too well about. Whatever the reasoning behind it was, I never understood my motives for that command. "Please," I added softly as a plea.

She nodded, looking at me steadily. I no longer felt so much younger than the headmistress; the last six years of my life had matured me far past my age. "Come on, Rose," she said to my daughter, stepping forward to pick up the toddler, who started squirming and crying harder.

"No!" my daughter cried again, reaching for me. Instinctively, I reached out for her, too, and touched her fingers with my own.

"Be strong, Rose. I love you," I told her one last time, holding in my tears as Kirova carried her back inside the Academy doors. My hand remained stretched out in front of me for unknown, probably stupidly sappy reasons. I eventually dropped it, and, with a heavy heart, turned my back on the Academy to walk to my Mercedes.

I sat in the driver's seat with my hands on the wheel, unmoving. Dillon, are you watching this? I didn't believe in heaven—but it was especially hard not to when I wanted so badly for it to be real, so that he could be happier in an afterlife. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I made no motion to wipe them away. If only he had survived. I knew we'd be married—and raising beautiful little Rose instead of shipping her to the Academy. I could just picture the wedding that could have been, with me, the beautiful bride that could have been, and sexy Dillon, grinning at me in his tuxedo, the perfect groom that could have been. If only, if only.

I threw the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot slowly, knowing that I had left my heart at the Academy, with my beautiful little daughter and the memory of my loving, adoring, perfect Dillon. My chest ached as I drove down the road, but I ignored the pain. The past was the past, I supposed, I could not change what had happen; I could only waste my life pining for what could have been. He wouldn't have wanted me to do that; he would have wanted me to… what? The thing was, that I had no idea what he _would_ have said. Damn it, this was… completely, utterly, totally my fault.

My face became a hard mask as I drove down the room, and I knew it would stay that way for a long time. There was no more room for love in my heart, or whatever was left of it. The love that had survived and still lived within it would stay until I died, but there was no more room for more. Dillon, would you still love me if you knew how heartless, how cruel I am now? Abandoning our daughter like that? I'd like to think that he would, that he would love me no matter what, but once again, I was back to the 'would have's. Damn it. Damn it. _Damn it._

"I do love her," I said aloud, mostly to myself. I love her enough to let her go. I'm doing the right thing. Right?

If I was doing the wrong thing, it was too late to mend it. I didn't turn around on the lonely Montana road, and I preceded down the two-lane highway towards my new life.

_The epilogue will be a scene from one of the Vampire Academy books, in Janine's point of view, obviously. A huge thanks to you all. Thank you SO MUCH for reading! :) You're all amazing, and I hope your night will be just as extraordinary._

_Mel._


	23. Epilogue

_Oh my God, I have to profusely apologize. Okay. I kinda screwed up with school and my parents grounded me, which is why I haven't updated in like three weeks. It was my fault (just letting you know that my parents aren't unusually cruel or extreme) but I hope I can make it up to you with this chapter. For the few of you who guessed what scene it would be, none of you were right. It's the scene from _Frostbite _where Janine and Rose are fighting in the gym. Here you go. I hope it was worth the wait and please review. ____ This is the last chapter btw._

I stepped into the gym of the Academy, relieved to be out of the cold, but feeling horribly out of place in the familiar school. Running a hand through my newly short hair, I swept my eyes over the place, closing my eyes, nostalgically remembering all my combat classes in there, sparring with the best of my grade and kicking some serious butt. Sighing, I opened my eyes, slightly shaking my head at myself. Those memories were of a different person, of a younger and irrational me. I slipped my arms out of my fur coat and left it along the gym wall as I walked towards the center, where I had marked circles for the exercise. Dimitri had requested me to train his pupil, as he was unavailable. I had accepted the task of a fight with my daughter, hoping that it would ease some of the undisguised hatred she had for me that so reminded me of my feelings towards my mother when I was her age.

I meandered away from the center, approaching the stage at the front of the gym. I slowly climbed the steps as I had so many years ago to graduate. Standing in the middle of the stage where the podium had been, I recalled the clapping crowd, Russell cheering loudly from the sidelines, and Dillon looking up at me from the front row with such love, such pride that I felt like I was going to pass out.

The door to the gym opened and a figure dashed in, not noticing me. I hastily wiped the moisture from my eyes and jumped down from the stage, following the trail of the girl… my daughter, whom I hadn't seen in five years. How could I have? She looked more like her father every day, and acted more like me. My last visit had sparked some resentment from her and I began to wonder if visiting her was good for her. Wouldn't it be easier if she could live her life without constantly missing me?

The door to the practice room was open and I quietly walked in. Rosemarie was standing in the middle of the room, her dark hair covering her shoulders. Her head was moving from side to side, obviously looking for the tutor that wasn't there. "He's not here," I said softly. She jumped high into the air, and whirled around, anger boiling in her eyes, just like it had in the classroom. I felt my own temper beginning to boil, but I forced the harsh words down into my throat.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her hands on her hips as she sneered down at me—she was a good four inches taller than me. After she spoke she seemed to notice the clothes I wore that were designed to be comfortable during combat. Her face changed swiftly into one of surprise and then disgust. "Shit."

I felt a pang in my heart—no mother wants to hear their daughter act like they would rather die than spend time with their mother. I shoved it away, but the frayed ropes reigning in my pain and temper were breaking. "Watch your mouth," I corrected her. "You might behave like you have no manners, but at least try not to sound that way." Damn. I hadn't meant to say that, but it was too late now.

"Where's Dimitri?" A look temporaily flashed in her eyes that I was all too used to—love. My suspicions flared. There had to be something more than a mentor/pupil relationship going on here. I didn't mention it though—I knew from my own experiences that it would do no good.

"Guardian Belikov is in bed. He just got back a couple of hours ago and needed to sleep." At least, if I couldn't openly tell her than crushing on her mentor isn't a good idea, I could do so subtly.

"Well, I guess practice is cancelled," she said quickly, starting to head towards the door.

I stepped forward, blocking her path. "Be quiet and put these on." I handed her a pair of training mitts, wondering what I was getting myself into. Was I really so angry at my daughter that I wanted to fight? Was I trying to get her to respect me by beating her in a fight? Or was I trying to connect with her in the only way I could think of—through a shared interest in guardianship? I lead her out of the room, ignoring most of her complaints and her disgruntled expression and thinking only of my conflicting feelings. How could my daughter despise me so much? She seemed so… serious about being a guardian. Shouldn't she realize why I "abandoned" her? Well, she was just a child, I consoled myself, creating excuses for her even though she didn't deserve it.

"What are we doing?" she asked when we reached the center of the gym. She had quickly dropped to mirror my attack stance.

What had Dimitri been _teaching_ her? "Basic offensive and defensive parrying. Use the red lines." Maybe if I kept my sentences short, I'd get more than just sullen expressions and glares out of her. Ah, hell, I wasn't kidding anyone—I was a horrible mother.

"That's all?" she asked warily.

I lunged towards her, seeing the surprise in her face as I caught her unaware. She managed to dodge just in time, and almost fell flat on her face in the process. I hadn't done anything like this in _years_. Feeling younger tremendously already, I answered with a touch of my old sarcasm, "Well, as you keep reminding me, I haven't seen you in five years. I have no idea what you can do." And with that, we began the exercise of me maneuvering to attack her and she nimbly dodging, barely managing to remain in the red lines. Despite all her efforts, I managed to get a couple of hits in, which I softened slightly, feeling somewhat guilty about the entire thing. But this wasn't my fault—or was it?

"So, what?" Rose panted, launching a feeble attempt at a punch that I easily evaded. "This is your way or making up for maternal negligence?"

That hit me hard—I suppose my avoidance of her would be construed by her as negligence. I longed to tell her everything—about her father, about me, about my pain, about why I gave her up. But I kept silent about it and my next words were an automatic coverup. "This is my way of making you get rid of that chip on your shoulder. You've had nothing but attitude for me since I arrived. You want to fight? " I landed a swift punch on her arm, feeling angry at myself for what I was doing. Why couldn't I come clean to her? She was my daughter. "Then we'll fight. Point." But despite all of my hesitation, I had continued to talk in this careless way, like I despised her as much as she seemed to despise me. And so the fight continued, me continuing the lie that was my unconcern for her. Until that is, she arrogantly said something that topped the rest, ripping its way right through my chest and piercing my chest.

"They're raising their children," she retorted in response to my disgusted comment about blood whores. "Something you'd know nothing about. Besides, aren't you the same as they are? I don't see a ring on your finger. Wasn't my dad just a fling for you?"

My face shattered and quickly became a steel mask, hiding my pain. I wanted to yell that he wasn't a fling, that he was so, so, so much more. But I didn't. "_That_ is something _you_ know nothing about. Point." And it was true—she knew nothing about Dillon. Except that he had Turkish blood, which wasn't saying much. And it was my decision, my choice that she didn't know. I had decided it long ago for reasons even I couldn't fathom.

"How'd it happen?" she demanded. I cringed as she continued. "Were you on some assignment in Turkey? Meet him at a local bazaar? Or was it even cheaper than that? Did you go all the way to Darwin and select the guy most likely to pass on warrior genes to your offspring? I mean, I know you only had me because it was your _duty_, so I suppose you had to make sure you gave the guardians the best specimen you could."

I was seething. I had never been mad in my life. "Rosemarie," I snarled. "For once in your life, shut up."

"Why? Am I tarnishing your precious reputation? It's just like you told me: you aren't any different from any other dhampire, either. You just screwed him—" She never got to finish.

I lunged forward impulsively, blinded by a red fire burning in me, and punched her with all my might in the face. She fell backwards, hitting her head on the gym floor with a loud crack. Oh, my God.

"Rose? Rose? Are you okay?" I gasped desperately. Her eyes stayed close, and I panicked, my memories flying back to the night where I had crouched, just like that, leaning over a body so beloved, just like Rose's, but he_ hadn't woken up_. And then I was sobbing and reaching in my pocket to get the cell phone and dialing Kirova's number and yelling at her to bring a stretcher and _hurry_ and snapping the phone shut.

And then I was kneeling by my daughter's unconscious body, knowing that she couldn't hear me. And I was telling her, whispering, telling her about everything.

_Not such a happy ending, but that's life, I suppose. Anyways, a HUGE thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through the story. ____ You guys are amazing, and hopefully I'll come back to the Vampire Academy to write another fanfic. As always, have a wonderful day and happy Halloween._

_Mel._


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